


Debt in Transaction

by phantom_rain



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, Heavy Angst, Heavy Drama, It’s...not what you think..., heavy...a lot of heavy..., here and there, theres more people in here, this is a ride guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26334526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantom_rain/pseuds/phantom_rain
Summary: Debt /det/ noun: an obligation that requires one party, the debtor, to pay an agreed-upon value to another party, the creditor.Debt is sacrificing your future day needs for your present day desires.Promise /präməs/ verb: to assure someone that one will definitely do, give, or arrange something; undertake or declare that something will happen.Promises are the sweetest lies. Sometimes they are lies told by others. Sometimes they are lies we tell ourselves.Promises make Debt, and Debt makes Promises.Years ago, Sasha Banks began a lifestyle she now finds herself fully and completely surrendered to. Clarity introduces itself in the most unlikely of ways, and Sasha soon finds herself scared and questioning everything she’s ever known over the past few years.
Relationships: Sasha Banks/Bayley | Davina Rose, Sasha Banks/Becky Lynch | Rebecca Knox
Comments: 13
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

While New York may very well be ‘The City that Never Sleeps’, she would definitely describe Los Angeles as the city that comes to life at night. The way the lights come up to expose every corner and crevice of every street and alleyway is something that always inspires a new wave of wonderment. She wouldn’t go as far as to say that it excites her; she’s been here far too long for that. But there’s always something about when the night hits. It’s almost like, the day has been reset, which is a rather silly proclamation if she thinks about it too deeply. Nevertheless, there’s just something about the night hitting that allows her the stolen moments to just _feel_ everything the city has to offer.

This is one of those moments. 

The winds in the hills have always had a bit more of a bite to them, even as they teeter towards the tail end of summer. The breeze carries the slightest of chills as it brushes her hair back and away from her shoulders. The chill is something that settles in the very base of her neck and as she braces her hands against the glass that acts as a barrier between her and the drop off below, she takes a deep breath to ward the feeling away. The act had her momentarily closing her eyes, and in that moment, she would swear she could feel the pulse of the city even from such a distance away.

The skyline is but a blur of blue lights and exposed smog, but it’s what many can closely associate to a beacon. It’s the shining hope of opportunity that this city represents. No one just happens to find themselves in LA. You’re either lucky enough to be born here, or you’re packing your life into your pathetic, less than reliable two seater, preparing to make the cross-country move that will forever change your life. Whether that change turns out to be good or bad is something solely left up in the air for fate to decide.

“Car’s waiting out front.”

She jumps as she hadn’t even heard, much less felt the presence that seemed to have materialized behind her. She exhales quietly and tries to cover her momentary slip of the nerves with a laugh so light that it gets carried away in a much stronger gust of wind. She doesn’t much glance over her shoulder, though she does straighten up, her hands still splayed out on the glass as a set of arms slowly slide in and wrap themselves around her waist.

“Mmm...this the Armani?”

The question succinctly follows the prolonged inhale and the light graze of lips against her neck. She smiles. It’s not pained, or enthralled, or anything expressive like that. It’s just a smile. She can’t call it anything other than that.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to notice.”

“Well…I had other things on my mind earlier.”

Her laugh is pulled from the very base of her throat. It’s a low rumble, even for her as her lips part just barely for that sound to also fall victim against the wind. If she hadn’t felt the vibrations in her own throat, she’s sure she would’ve thought the noise was something she had imagined.

“I need to go.”

“Mhmmm. You do. You need anything?”

“No I…” she pauses momentarily to take a deep breath and with it comes squared shoulders and a raised chin. “I’m good.”

“Great. Car’s out front.”

There’s a kiss to her cheek, a pat to her hip, and then retreating footsteps. On her next exhale, her shoulders threaten to sink, but she keeps them firm. A smile, this one she can more align to a smirk, tugs at the very corner of her lips. She casts one last look out over the hills, and back to that beacon, shining ever so brightly for everyone watching.

_**Earlier That Day** _

Becky’s eyes have started to cross, and it’s just barely noon. Her laptop had long since gone black, and even before it had fallen asleep, she’s pretty sure she had been staring at the same three words for the past however many hours it’s been since she first arrived at the office. So far, her day had consisted of nothing but dead air phone calls and paperwork. Now that she thinks of it, pretty much all of her days end up like that if she’s not sending out and responding to emails, or even more exciting, actually showing off a property. For some reason, as of late, things have been a bit stagnant and she’s found her days to have gotten a lot more monochromatic than they normally are.

That’s also how she’s found herself into her fourth cup of coffee so far, doing everything she can and try to power through the rest of this day. She yawns a tiredly, eyes watering as she blinks several times to keep them from closing. With how droll this day has been, Becky definitely wouldn’t put it past herself to some how fall asleep mid stride on the way back to her desk. Then she’s sure she would have to explain to the ER doctors how she ended up with third degree burns courtesy of scalding hot espresso. That wouldn’t be a great ideal way to spend her birthday.

Then again, a trip to the ER could arguably be a bit more exciting than what she’s doing currently. Which is absolutely nothing. She immediately grimaces at the thought. Is that where her life is now? Being excited about a nonexistent trip to the hospital?

She shakes her head at her own pitiful thoughts as she nears closer to her cubical. She resigns herself that this day is going to be just like the last. At least, that was the original thought, until she noticed two things incredibly out of the ordinary in her tiny office space.

The first thing she notices is the cake sitting in the very center of her desk, but the cake in itself isn’t the issue. The issue lies in what’s sticking out from the very center of the cake. Becky’s eyes widen and she flushes a deep shade of fire engine red as she processes just what the hell she’s looking at, and she immediately wishes she wasn’t looking. She doesn’t have to look far for an answer, however. The pair of combat boots propped up on her desk and crossed at the ankle is a dead giveaway.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you!?” Becky hisses, storming into her cubical, knocking the boots off her desk in one swift motion as she goes to stand on the opposite side. If it were possible for her blush to deepen even further, it does. The redness in her face and the oddly exaggerated rise and fall of her shoulders has her looking like a caricature that is only a few seconds away from blowing smoke out of her ears. She looks up only to find the familiar smug look of her best friend beaming right back at her with all the glory of a cat who just caught a canary. “What the _fuck_!?”

“I was gonna start singing, but I thought that would be too much,” Ronda’s grin gets impossibly wider. “It’s not too late for me to start, though.”

Becky balks. “I…you…you!” she gestures wildly back to the cake on her desk. The cake that reads _‘Happy Birthday Dickhead’_ complete with what she hopes to god isn’t a real dildo protruding right in the cake’s very center. “I would have rather you started singing! What is wrong with you!?”

Ronda shrugs casually and relaxes back into her chair as she turns her feet to their comfortable spot propped on Becky’s desk. “Oh come on! Don’t act like you don’t know what that is!”

“Of course I know what it is! But you can’t just walk in here dropping dicks on my damn desk! What if somebody had walked by!? What if _my boss_ had seen!? Actually,” having caught herself getting riled up, Becky rakes her hands through her hair before settling to pinch the bridge of her nose. She takes several deep breaths, both two counts in and two counts out. “How did you even get in here???”

“Easy. I just told the reception chick I was dropping off a package.”

“You flirted with her, didn’t you...”

“I mean…maybe…but that’s not the point,” Ronda rolls her eyes. “Would you calm down? It’s not like I just waltzed in here with an open cake. I brought it in a box. What do you think I am?”

“You really don’t want me to answer that.” Becky sighs tiredly and drops down into her chair. She makes a face as she continues to eye the obnoxious phallus before she groans audibly. “Ronnie whhhhy….” She groans again. “And why’s it gotta be pink!?”

Ronda beams again. “Because I know you love pink. Hey cool thing is, you can use it after you finish the cake. You just gotta—”

Becky’s eyes immediately shoot open from where they had fallen shut. “I’m not gonna use it!” she exclaims loudly, once she sees that Ronda is totally being serious about her suggestion.

Ronda’s teeth click as she snaps her mouth closed. “Oh…well, maybe you should. Maybe if you did you wouldn’t be so, you know…” she lazily makes a series of gestures at Becky. “All of that.”

All of that? Becky blinks owlishly as she tries to process what that even means. For a second, she even glances down at herself to see if she had spilled something to warrant the comment. Eventually, she’s just left meeting Ronda with a small frown.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Ronda huffs and throws her head back. “Becks look at you. It’s your birthday, and what are you doing? You’re sitting here chained to this desk. The same thing you do every damn day of every week. The same thing you’re probably gonna be doing tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. Look, all I’m saying is maybe you could use a little, I dunno, maybe a little spice.”

Becky raises an eyebrow and waits for further explanation. When she doesn’t receive any, she slowly shakes her head. “Spice? I don’t need spice. I’m good,” she huffs at the dildo cake and swipes her finger across the edge before tasting the frosting. This time, both her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Shit…that’s good actually.”

Ronda opens her mouth, but she’s immediately cut off by a noisy gurgle. She quirks an eyebrow and smirks. “You forget lunch again?”

Becky squares her jaw. “No! I had something—” her stomach rumbles again and she has no choice but to concede with a sigh. “I forgot…”

“Knew it! Come on,” Ronda quickly gets to her feet and claps her hands. “I’m buying.”

* * *

There’s something about knowing how pent up you’re feeling and then there’s actually taking the time to step out of that box enough to allow yourself the moment to breathe. The moment she had stepped out of her office, Becky had immediately felt like a small drop of color had been accidentally dripped onto her blank canvas of a day. It’s a bit dejecting when she realizes the highlight of her day so far is walking across the street to a deli. At least it’s her favorite deli, and she wasn’t paying. She also supposes she’s enjoying hanging out with her somewhat favorite person, but she wouldn’t dare say that last part out loud. She knows for a fact she’d never hear the end of it.

“Dude. What’s going on with you?”

Her thoughts are interrupted by the oddly sudden and serious tone in Ronda’s voice. “How do you mean?” Becky’s confusion is evident in the way her eyebrows furrow together.

Ronda’s sigh is a bit exasperated. “Becky. We’ve been over this already. You’ve gotta do something. I mean, you go to work, you come up, you might watch a little TV here and there, and then you get up the next day and do it all over again.”

“That’s not true!” Becky cuts in. “I spend time with your dumb ass. Never mind the fact that I actually have a job and I _work_. Something you don’t know anything about!”

Ronda’s lips purse together into what can easily be described as a pout. “I work!”

“Ronda, ‘gym ratting’ is not an occupation.”

“…I like to take a more holistic approach on life,” Ronda snuffs. Seeing Becky roll her eyes and prepare a retort, she quickly holds her hands up. “Okay, okay. Listen. Just hear me out. When’s the last time you had a date?”

Becky’s eyes go wide. “Ronnie, don’t—”

“Just hear me out!” Ronda interrupts. “When’s the last time you had a date?”

Becky’s lips form into a thin line. Her cheeks warm considerably and she tries to come up with an answer when she eventually concludes that she doesn’t know. For a split second, she contemplates lying about it, but she knows that Ronda would be able to see through that like a freshly cleaned window.

“Been a while…” she mumbles, just barely audible enough for herself to hear, much less the woman across the table.

“How long’s a while?”

“I don’t know? A while??? Jesus, Ronnie. I just haven’t had the time, okay? It hasn’t been top priority. I mean yeah, I know you think my work is boring, but I actually can get pretty busy. Sure, there are slow times, but most times when I’m showing a house or something, or finalizing a sale, that can be pretty time consuming. I guess I just haven’t thought much about it.”

That’s more or less a lie. While yes, it’s not something she’s dwelled on for a particularly long period of time, the thought does tend to be a bit more frequent than she would like to admit. She’s not waking up every morning like she’s in a b-list written romcom, thinking ‘today is the day! The first day of the rest of her life!’ or something equally as asinine. While that’s the last thing that’s on her mind, she can’t deny that she does find herself frequently trying to combat the loneliness. Maybe that’s why she opts to spend most of her time at the office. You can’t think about it if you don’t have time, right?

“Ronnie look, I know it might not seem like it, but I’m good, alright? I really have just been busy,” she pauses and shrugs her shoulders. “But maybe you’re right.”

Ronda’s eyes widen just a fraction. “I am? About which part?”

Becky shrugs. “About me needing to get out more. I have been spending a lot more time at the office lately so…I’d be down if you wanted to go grab a drink somewhere later. It’ll be nice to throw back a couple and just fuck off for a bit.”

If it were at all possible, Ronda’s eyes widen even more. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be? It’s been a while, and it could be fun.”

“I am glad you mention it, but uh…I can’t tonight.”

Becky feels her shoulders drop and her gaze falls downcast to her plate in front of her. “Oh…”

“Because you’ve already got plans.”

Wait.

“I…do?” Becky blinks owlishly. When she spots the shit eating grin on Ronda’s face, she immediately closes her eyes and groans. “Ronnie…”

“Look, I’m just trying to help alright? It’s your birthday and you need to relax, have a good time, and enjoy yourself. Not to mention, we really need to get you back out there so…”

“What did you do...”

“I found you a date!”

Becky’s mouth falls open and it’s a wonder it hit the table. “You what!?”

Ronda nods animatedly. “I found you a date. I mean, it wasn’t easy since it’s kinda hard to gauge what you’re into, especially since all of your serious relationships have been with…anyway! There’s this girl, she’s a friend of a friend, but I think she’d be really great for you. I mean, you’re single, she’s single. She’s got an open personality and I’m sure she’d be willing to sit there and listen to you talk about housing taxes or whatever it is you like to wow women with.”

“Fuck you,” Becky hisses before she sends a French fry across the table, successfully catching Ronda in the forehead. “Ronnie, you can’t just set me up on a fucking—”

“Well I already did, and she already has your address so be at your place and have dinner ready by 7:30,” when she sees that Becky is looking at her like she’s grown three heads, Ronda throws up her hands. “What!? You’re into stuff like that!”

“I am, but not with someone I haven’t met before! Someone, who is a complete stranger might I had, who now has my address! Ronda, I don’t even…how am I supposed to even…7:30!? I get off work at 5! That gives me not even two hours to go home and…oh my god.”

Ronda sighs and shakes her head. She can’t exactly say this is something she hadn’t been expecting because it definitely was. She absolutely expected Becky to freak out like this and that’s largely the reason why she didn’t tell Becky about this beforehand. Ronda preferred to stay true to her own life motto; ‘do it, then ask for forgiveness later’. 

“Listen. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think this was gonna be good for you. It’s your _birthday_ , Becks. One of the days out of the year that gets to exclusively be all about you. Look, you’re pretty fucking awesome, alright? You deserve something like this, and since you seem to be kinda stuck, I’m just…helping the process along…a little.”

Becky can’t argue. Not for the lack of wanting to, but she’s known Ronda since they were both just barely tall enough to reach the monkey bars on the playground. That being said, Becky is pretty sure the other woman would probably know her better than she knows herself, and for that, there will always be an undeniable level of trust between them. Even if that trust at times can be a bit…daunting.

“…what does she look like?”

Ronda’s hesitant expression eventually morphs into a rather satisfied grin. “Oh dude. She’s not even on the scale when people ask from 1 to 10.”

Becky doesn’t know why her voice suddenly gets caught in her throat. One thing she knows as fact, is she can never be steered astray when it comes to Ronda’s taste in women. Well, visually speaking that is. Actual personality is a whole different story, but as far as being easy on the eyes is concerned? Becky doesn’t even think she can recall a time where Ronda has missed the mark on that front.

“Do you have a picture?”

“I ah, I don’t,” Ronda awkwardly rubs at the back of her neck. “But! You’ll know when she comes to do the door. It’s not like you’re expecting anyone else tonight anyway.”

Becky mutters something along the lines of ‘you don’t know, I could be’, but she knows saying that out loud would just open herself up to be picked apart. “…Do you at least know her name?”

“Ah, just…remember to introduce yourself when you meet her. Trust me on this, Becks. You’ll have a good time.”

Rolling her eyes, Becky resigns completely. There’s a part of her that wants to reach across the table and strangle Ronda with everything she’s got. But there’s another part of her, perhaps the part she speaks to every day she gets up and goes through the motions. There’s a part of her that can’t help but feel a small tingle of excitement buried underneath all those nerves.

* * *

Alone in her apartment for the time being, Becky finds herself a near nervous wreck. Currently, she’s standing in front of her mirror, resisting the urge to run her hands through her hair to the point that it’s past help. The last thing she would want is to spend another hour trying to tame it just because she couldn’t keep still long enough to not mess it up.

Her fingers fumble as she tries to secure her watch around her wrist. With it finally in place, she turns it over and glances at the time.

_7:25_

Becky gulps, in an attempt to swallow the lump that has settled itself in her throat since lunch time. She hadn’t even been able to finish eating due to the sudden uneasiness that settled in her stomach.

The entire rest of her day, she hadn’t even been able to focus on work. She had alternated between sending emails, just narrowly missing phone calls, and glancing at the time that appeared to be moving backwards. Eventually, she gave up trying to make it through the day and shot off a quick email to her boss before she was leaving her desk and not looking back. The early exit had at least given her enough time to get ready and actually prepare a decent dinner as opposed to something that came quite close to being half ass thrown together.

She strides into her kitchen and double checks the chicken she had left warming in the oven. She proceeds to double check the pots on the stove and the bowl of salad sitting on the counter. She checks everything over about three separate times before she’s taking a much needed deep breath when she feels her heartrate start to pick up.

She has just finished lighting a candle when there’s a quick series of knocks at her door.

“Shit,” she hisses fumbling with the lighter where she drops it. She huffs quietly as she quickly bends over to retrieve it and place it on the counter. Her attention the turns to her front door where she stares for a moment.

Swallowing thickly, she smooths her hands over her navy button down. It had probably taken her the most time to settle on something to wear. At first, she went for full on suit before she had to remind herself that they were going no further than her apartment, and a suit and tie isn’t exactly something she’d consider ‘first date essential’.

Instead, she settled on a dark blue button down where she had rolled up the sleeves and left the top two buttons undone. In leu of slacks, she opted to go with a pair of jeans still dark enough to be semi-formal but not too over the top. She had taken a moment to wonder if she should even wear shoes at all seeing as she was at home, but she immediately gave herself a mental slap to the back of the head for having such a stupid thought.

“It’s been a while…a long while…a couple years maybe…but you still know what to do right? It’s like…riding a bike.”

She laughs off her nerves as she comes to a halt in front of her front door. She runs a hand through her hair one last time and takes one last deep breath before she’s grasping the handle and carefully swinging it open. As soon as she opens the door, any sad excuse for a greeting she might have had dies out immediately and she just barely has enough wherewithal to mentally check and make sure her jaw hasn’t fallen down to her shoes.

_‘She’s not even on the scale when people ask from 1 to 10’_

That’s probably got to be the biggest understatement of the millennia.

If she were to simply say the woman standing on the other side of her doorstep is just ‘gorgeous’ she’s pretty sure she would be committing several counts of felony perjury in all 195 countries on the planet. Everything from the way her blue hair falls over her shoulders, to her makeup that’s just visible enough to still be all the more tempting, all the way to the strapless black dress that threatens any and all imaginations with the world’s most taunting bustline. Becky gives herself another mental slap to keep from looking any lower out of respect.

“Hey…”

As soon as she speaks, Becky finds her breath hitching and in response, the woman arches a finely sculpted eyebrow.

“Are you…Becky?”

“Becky…” Becky’s eyes go wide, and she quickly tries to recover from her mental faux pas. “Yeah! That’s me. I’m um, I’m Becky.”

The woman’s curious look morphs into a smile and she extends her arm, offering her hand. Becky’s eyes dart from the woman’s smile down to her hand before she clears her throat and tries to remind herself how to use her limbs.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Sasha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little project I've had in the works for quite some time actually. I've been working on it quietly and I feel like now...well...as my projects and other things appear to be coming to a close, I was feeling like it was time to bring this one out of developmental. It's time to share. I really hope you guys are along for the ride on this one. This is definitely a work I am over the MOON stoked about writing because it just...man...it's like taking in the look in the past and going "okay what can i do better" and just running with it. Seriously guys, I can't wait!


	2. Chapter 2

Not completely swallowing her tongue is something that is particularly high on Becky’s priority at this very moment. As the woman brushes past her, she finds her grip on the edge of her doorway has tightened considerably and for a split second she’s cursing her best friend. She’s cursing Ronda for taking it upon herself to ‘find her some action’ as it had been so tastelessly put. Sure, it’s been a while since she’s been out and sure her past dates and girlfriends alike could fall just a fraction out of the ‘desirable’ column, but Becky knows where she stands with women. She knows her place and she knows where exactly she stands with women. That’s how she _knows_ for a fact that the woman who has just glided into her apartment with all the grace in the world is _lightyears_ out of her league.

“Christ…”

The namesake is uttered under her breath as she quietly closes the door behind her. She sends up a silent prayer to anyone listening before she smooths a hand over her hair and retreats back through the foyer. She finds Sasha standing just a little bit off the entryway, her head moving slightly as she appears to be taking in every ounce of the apartment. Becky fancies herself a pretty clean person. The only think that would traditionally be out of order are the countless stacks of papers that frequently litter the coffee table, but she had done a mass speed sweep in between getting the food prepped and her shower. She knows she didn’t leave anything lying around, and yet, the silent examination leaves her feeling just a bit shy.

“Sorry if it’s not what you were expecting,” Becky is a bit taken off guard by the suddenness from her own words. She has zero idea why she says that in the first place because the implications could literally mean anything. The last thing she wants is to offend and she’s afraid that she’s already managed to do so in record time.

Having seemingly completed her assessment, Sasha’s head turns in Becky’s direction. For a split second her eyes narrow and something of a frown threatens to crease, before it’s gone and replaced by an easy smile. She laughs lowly, almost too low to be heard before she tilts her head slightly displaying minimal confusion. “Was there something in particular I was supposed to be expecting?” she implores with an inquisitive raise of her eyebrow.

Becky immediately feels her face get a little warmer. “No, ah…sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just,” she pauses and rubs her neck while laughing awkwardly. “Sorry. It’s…it’s been a while since I’ve done anything like this or had anyone over in a while so…I guess I’m just a bit nervous.”

Sasha’s features relax and her laugh is a bit lighter, replacing any sprinkles of prior skepticism. “It’s alright. If it will make you any less nervous, it’s been a while for me too,” she pauses and looks around for another brief second. “Is there a place I can put my coat?”

“Oh! Here, I’ll take it,” Becky offers, thanking any deity willing to listen that she had the earlier wherewithal to clear out her coat closet. Not that she hadn’t had the space to begin with, but she was certainly thankful to not have to embarrass herself further by opening the door only for a mountain of her stuff to start an avalanche in her apartment.

As she hands over her coat, Sasha’s lips quirk slightly as she notices Becky’s incredibly-obvious-not-so-obvious attempt to not stare at her cleavage. Her eyes follow the woman as she heads over towards the coat closet before she tosses her hair over her shoulder and continues to quietly look around the apartment.

“This is a nice place. It’s just you here?”

“Ah, yeah. Sometimes I think it’s a bit too big, you know? I mean, it’s only two bedrooms, but I guess that could be a lot for someone who’s kinda always lived alone. Heh, it’s the one with the view so I guess that kind of sealed the deal and I couldn’t say no.”

It’s definitely a vice and as she’s found her way over towards the window, Sasha can absolutely see how it’s decision worthy. It’s nothing like the hills, but she’s definitely found herself drawn by the lights. As opposed to a distant glow, here, the lights come together to emit a commingle aura that puts on a show for anyone watching. It’s not the top floor. It doesn’t tower above the city. It’s just the simplicity of being right in the middle of everything.

“It’s a beautiful view,” she whispers quietly, while her fingers lightly brush against the glass.

“Yeah…it is…”

Becky doesn’t much realize she’s uttered the words out loud, albeit, quietly. She catches herself staring when Sasha turns away from the window and shakes herself back into reality by sporting a wide and what she hopes is a confident grin. Her shoulders finally manage to relax, when after only a few moments, Sasha returns her smile.

“Dinner’s just about ready. I hope you’re hungry.”

* * *

“So far so good…I think,” Becky murmurs to herself as she exits the kitchen with two prepared plates in hand.

If she were to give herself any sort of credit, she would say she’s pretty damn proud of the fact Sasha hasn’t quite given up and left yet. She snorts mirthlessly at the unironic recollection of a date she had some time around the middle of last year where the woman had apparently found her so incredibly boring that she felt the need to take off. Left with the guise of needing to use the restroom, Becky had been left to sit there for a solid fifteen minutes before it finally hit her what had happened. It was that instance that her best friend dubbed the frequently (over)used phrase _‘runnin’ ‘em off before the appetizer arrives’_. Becky rolls her eyes as she can practically hear Ronda’s voice in her head.

Speaking of Ronda, Becky has been highly annoyed by the thankfully near silent buzzing that’s been happening in her pockets what seems to be like every ten minutes. She had been able to pretty much ignore it at first, but it wasn’t until Sasha’s eyes had darted to her pocket and she raised an eyebrow curiously, that Becky realized it was going to be a bit of a problem if she lets it continue on. She’d been alone, prepping the plates in the kitchen, when she had finally pulled out her phone, and her eyes widened at the obnoxious stream of text messages on her notification screen.

_‘Is she there yet?’_

_‘She’s hot right? I told you she was hot. See, maybe now you’ll learn to trust me.’_

_‘You were able to like clean up right?’_

_‘Not that you look bad! I was just worried you were gonna put on one of those stupid sweaters or something.’_

_‘Hey, hey remember. Chicks aren’t into property taxes.’_

_‘Oh yeah! You can use the gift I brought you earlier!’_

_‘Don’t forget to use protection ;)’_

Becky had rolled her eyes hard at the last message and she had quickly typed back a message of her own how she fully planned on blocking Ronda’s number for the rest of the night if she didn’t stop. The series of winking emojis along with that fucking eggplant that followed her threat had her cutting the damn thing off completely. She had stared at the blank screen for a solid minute before she shook her head and went back to dinner.

“Sorry about that. Got a little caught up with making sure everything was ready.”

Sasha grins and shakes her head. “It’s not a problem. It smells great,” she pauses, and her eyes narrow slightly. “Did you make all this?”

“I did. Well,” Becky nods her head back and forth before shrugging. “If you like everything, then yes I made it. If you hate it, then it’s cheap takeout I ordered because I really don’t know how to cook.”

Becky finds herself put even more at ease at the open laugh she earns in response to her dry humor. The breath she’s pretty much been holding for the entire night finally slips out as she relaxes into the environment. As she sets the plates down on the dining table, she picks up the bottle of wine she had previously placed in the center and squints at the label.

“I’m ah, gonna be completely honest here. I kinda had to google what wine goes best with chicken,” she scrunches up her face as she continues to examine the bottle. “Gonna be real here, I’m not really much of a wine drinker.”

“Oh?” Sasha raises an eyebrow as she watches while Becky attempts to open the bottle. “Tell me then, what’s usually your drink of choice?”

As she continues to work at the corkscrew, Becky ponders for a moment. “I’m a big fan of whiskeys actually. The ones where you kinda have to take in the aroma before you drink it? Some of them, you can really smell the vanilla and in my opinion, that’s how you know if it’s gonna be a good drink or not.”

At this, Sasha makes a face. “Whiskey? Seems like that’s either an old man thing or an Irish thing.”

Having finally worked the bottle open, Becky pauses momentarily as she’s pouring a glass. “Irish?”

Sasha’s smile molds into a smirk. “Come on now…the accent? It didn’t exactly seem like it was something you’re trying to hide. Not that I’m sure you could.”

“Heh, funny. You’d be right, I can’t hide it. Even if I tried,” Becky finally takes her seat at the table. “Ah, I guess I was just asking because people are usually way off the mark with it. When I first moved here, I found that the general consensus is when people hear an accent, they immediately think it’s British. Guess it’s kinda hard to believe that places outside of London actually exist.”

“People here don’t even believe places outside of _America_ exist,” Sasha shakes her head. “if you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been here?”

Becky blinks, almost owlishly as she’s not used to someone asking so many questions about her. It’s not a bad thing, but it leaves her feeling a bit sheepish for fear that she’ll somehow end up talking way too much about herself. For a split second, she almost wants to deflect the question and hopefully find something a bit more interesting to talk about, but Sasha continues to look at her with a sense of expectancy and she finds herself encouraged to go on.

“It’s been a while. I was in high school when my family first moved here,” she pauses and shrugs before chuckling. “You’d think that’d be plenty of time for me to lose to accent by now, huh?”

Sasha only hums, pausing as she lifts her wineglass. “Maybe, but it kinda stands out from everyone else, you know? I like it.”

Becky hopes her blush isn’t as prominent as it currently feels. “Thanks…” she clears her throat and nods across the table in an attempt to take some of the attention off herself. “How is everything?”

“The wine is great and the chicken,” Sasha closes her eyes and hums in bliss as she takes another bite. “The chicken is perfect. Please don’t disappoint me by telling me it’s really take out.”

“Ha! No, no. It’s not. I actually made it; the chicken, potatoes, everything. I kinda had a hard time with the salad though. Not that it was hard, but it’s just lettuce, you know? Kinda hard to find something interesting to do with that so I just kinda made my own dressing and said a prayer that it would turn out okay.”

“It’s amazing. Everything is, seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever had a meal this good. Well…not one that someone’s made. I take it you cook a lot?”

Becky knows for a fact that her blush is now currently on full display. “Thanks. Yeah I…I usually end up spending a lot of time in my kitchen. When I’m not busy with work, which is pretty rare, I’m usually in here either coming up with something or trying out a recipe I saw online. Like I said though, it’s kinda rare what with work and all.”

Sasha’s eyebrows raise in interest. “And what exactly does work consist of?”

“Oh! Heh, I’m in sales. Well, real estate,” Becky suddenly finds herself laughing nervously. “If you’re looking or no anyone who’s looking for a place, the property tax bill is sitting pretty good right now, so it’d be a perfect time to…” she eventually trails off when she catches her oncoming tangent.

_‘And this is exactly why you’re single.’_

Across the table, Sasha takes note of the crimson red blush across the other woman’s face and she can’t help but smile. “Well, I’m not exactly looking to move at the moment, but if I know of anyone who is, then I’ll definitely put in a word.”

Becky shakes her head quickly. “Ah, thanks. Sorry, I didn’t mean…I’m not use to,” she huffs quietly before looking up at Sasha expectantly. “We’ve talked _way_ too much about me. What about you? I’m sure you’re a lot more interesting to hear about as opposed to sitting here and talking housing rates.”

“You’d be surprise,” Sasha hums with a small shrug. “I’m in sales as well. Except my job requires me to travel a lot, so sitting down and actually having a homecooked dinner like this is, I guess you could say, my rarity.”

“Oh…and for that, I guess you really don’t date much?” Becky’s eyes immediately widen in alarm. “I’m sorry! I hope that didn’t come off as…how it probably sounded. I was just saying that, you seem like you’re super busy so dating seems like it could be…I don’t know…hard?”

Sasha ponders for a moment before shrugging. “It’s definitely not something that’s particularly high on the priority list, but…every now and then I find myself making an exception.”

Becky clears her throat. “Same honestly and well…for what it’s worth, I’m kinda glad we both made the exception.” She grins as she raises her own wineglass about halfway across the table. Her grin widens as Sasha makes a noise akin to a quiet giggle before she clinks their glasses together.

* * *

Becky is surprised that she can say this is probably one of the easiest first dates she’s ever had. Even with the heightened anxiety of the venue of choice being none other than her very own apartment, she eventually found herself relaxing into a rhythm she wasn’t even aware she had. Overtime, she was less worried about what would potentially come out of her mouth and she found herself opening up with ease.

What had definitely taken her by surprise was how Sasha was actually quite content to listen. She looked on with widened interest as Becky seamlessly conversed about everything from the sea to the sun. She definitely doesn’t want to get ahead of herself, but Becky truly had no idea that the proverbial ‘perfect person’ was someone who actually existed, much less someone who quite literally showed up right at her doorstep. 

She’d seriously thought she’d been dreaming when she and Sasha would frequently land on planes of similar interests. Becky had no idea that _anyone_ within a thousand-mile radius would share her rather unconventional taste in music. She hopes she didn’t totally look like a kid on Christmas the way she lit up and jumped at the opportunity to show Sasha her prized vinyl collection she has displayed in both her office and living room.

Currently, the evening finds the two sitting comfortably on the sofa while the record player sitting in the corner of the room casts the sounds of said collection through the apartment. Becky has since swapped her wineglass for someone more familiar, as she sits with her arm draped across the sofa with a short glass of amber liquid in hand. Her eyes are slightly closed as she nods along with the soft guitar strums filtering through the calm setting.

Not too far on the same sofa, Sasha sits with her feet tucked underneath her while she nurses her second glass of wine. Her head is propped on her hand and a small knowing grin is just barely tugging at her lips as she sits quite content with watching the other woman nodding along with the music. Her eyes momentarily flit towards the time on the wall before she shifts slightly and chuckles lowly.

“You seem to really like this one,” she hums before taking another sip from her glass.

Becky’s eyes blink open and she glances to her left to find Sasha watching her with amusement. “Oh, this one? Yeah, heh,” she reaches up and rubs at the back of her neck. “It’s real easy to get lost in this one. Definitely, one of my favorites, hands down. Is there, um, anything in particular you’d like to listen to? You’ve seen the collection, so if you’ve got a request, odds are I probably have it.”

For a split second, Becky notices how Sasha’s eyes flit towards the clock on the wall. She immediately does the same and she can’t help but deflate just a fraction when she realizes how late it actually is. “Or if you’ve gotta go, that’s totally okay too. I actually didn’t even realize how late it’s gotten.”

Sasha frowns for a split second before she quickly shakes her head. “No, I don’t have anywhere to be. I’m not at all in a hurry.” She leans forward just enough to place her glass on the coffee table. “Are you?”

“Um…” Becky swallows the thick lump that’s suddenly appeared in her throat when she realizes just how close Sasha has shifted over on the couch. They’ve spent a pretty decent amount of time near each other for the night, but now she’s close enough for Becky to get a nose full of her perfume and she knows that the sudden intoxication she’s feeling has absolutely nothing to do with her drink in hand. “No, I-I don’t have anywhere to be or anything.”

“Good,” Sasha’s voice is smooth as she closes her fingers around Becky’s glass before slowly commandeering it. She takes a sip of the amber liquid, leaving behind a lipstick stain on the rim before she places that on the coffee table as well. “I don’t either.”

With the softness of the music still playing in the background, Becky certainly can’t remember the last time she was in this particular position. Now that she thinks of it, she can’t exactly say she’s sure that she’s been in this particular position at all in her own apartment following a kickoff date. The realization leaves her nerves shooting to the surface and it’s everything she can do to keep from shaking as a hand comes up to rest on the back of her neck.

The initial kiss is every bit of intoxicating as she could have imagined it. The aroma of Sasha’s perfume coupled with the comingled taste of whiskey and wine on her soft lips is enough to send Becky’s head into a 720-degree spin. She feels like she’s floating, and she has to mentally give herself a verbal lashing to do something other than continue to sit there like a dead fish.

Things heat up and they heat up rather quickly as Becky’s hands come to rest on Sasha’s waist. Even through the material of her dress, Becky swears she can feel the heat emitting from the other woman as their lips glide together in a dance that feels like it’s been practiced many times before finally coming together.

With her hands cupping Becky’s jaw, Sasha shifts her weight on the sofa just enough for her to swing a leg over to where she’s now straddling her lap. She presses in closely, and she smirks into the kiss at the quiet, involuntary moan she’s rewarded in response. As she parts her lips just enough to introduce her tongue into the equation, she’s surprised when Becky pulls away from the kiss completely.

“Wait, wait,” Becky huffs, having fallen victim to the act that has quite literally stolen her breath away. Her breath hitches when Sasha turns her attention to placing kisses along her jawline. “I’m, heh…I usually don’t do this kinda stuff on the first date.”

“Mmmm…me neither,” Sasha hums unconvincingly as she angles her head just enough to nip against Becky’s pulse point.

Becky shifts slightly when hands come down to untuck her shirt and nails scrape lightly against the skin of her sides. “Ah, no. I mean,” she gives a small squeeze to Sasha’s sides. “I mean I really like you. A lot. I was kind of thinking, maybe, if it’s okay I could see you again, and maybe take you out?”

Sasha pauses her actions, but she doesn’t move.

“I-I mean, if that’s okay. You’re just…you’re really awesome and I feel like we’ve really got a lot in common and I’m hoping we could get to know each other a little better before we…you know…”

The room falls completely silent as the last song on side a of the record comes to an end. Still in Becky’s lap, Sasha eventually pulls away just enough for their eyes to meet. Her hands are still resting on Becky’s shoulders and her eyes narrow slightly while flitting over Becky’s face. When she sees nothing but a doe eyed look of hopefully innocence, her own eyes widen considerably.

“You’re…serious?” with that same look doesn’t fade, she tilts her head back towards the ceiling. “You _are_ serious. Oh my god.”

Becky’s eyes furrow completely. “What? Of course, I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be. I—” she cuts herself off and her eyes widen in alarm. “You don’t want to go out with me again.”

Sasha huffs aggravatedly before she removes herself from Becky’s lap and distances herself on the sofa. “Look, I’m sorry. I know earlier you laid out everything you’re looking for tonight, and now I get here and you’re not even trying to touch me, so you’ll have to forgive me for being kinda confused here.”

Becky is the one who is confused and she can’t help but stare dumbly at the other woman as if she’s just spoken a foreign language. “Earlier? I…I don’t know…I wasn’t looking for anything tonight? It’s not that I don’t want to touch you, I just…kind of want to wait, if that’s okay?”

“You didn’t say anything about waiting in the messages?”

“Messages?”

“Yeah? The ones where you asked me to come here? The ones you paid for?”

“Paid for?” Becky repeats before her eyes go so wide that they nearly fall right out of her head. “I-I didn’t pay for anything.”

Sasha scoffs and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Well _someone_ did. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

_'Someone.'_

_'Pay for.'_

_'Oh my god.'_

Becky’s eyebrows furrow together before she’s quickly standing up from her couch. “Oh no…” she groans, squeezing her eyes together as she clutches her head in her hands while pacing back and forth. “Oh no…no…no. Oh my god, oh my _god!_ I didn’t…you’re…you…” she huffs and lets her arms fall limply at her sides. “You’re not a blind date my friend set up for me, are you?”

Sasha raises an eyebrow and tilts her head to the side. After a few moments of silence, she slowly shakes her head and she watches as the other woman immediately deflates completely. For a second, she almost feels bad.

“I don’t get it,” Becky says quietly, mostly to herself as she shakes her head. “You…we…we like some of the same things and want to visit some of the same places and-and you said you’re also in sales.”

“I am,” Sasha tags on. Her gaze falls to the floor and she gives a half shrug. “I am in sales and my jobs does require me to travel a lot.”

“Yeah, just not how I was thinking…” Becky mumbles before sighing heavily.

Never in her life did she think she would ever be in a position like this. Never in her life did she _want_ to be in a position like this. Now here she is, feeling like she’s been completely cast out at sea without a raft, life jacket, or anything that would aid her from drowning. Hell, maybe right now, drowning might be the best option.

Swallowing thickly, she finally manages to look up at meet Sasha’s eyes despite the shameful disappointment in her own. “Listen, I…I wasn’t trying to offend you or anything, but I’m not…looking for that. I guess one of my friends must’ve…thought it was a joke or something, but ah…I really don’t want you to have to waste your time here.”

There’s a small part of Sasha that so badly wants to roll her eyes at this humanized version of a kicked puppy, but she can’t bring herself to do so. She gives herself a slap on the wrist for not picking up the genuine fondness sooner. She’s so used to having to play the game for the long run, that she had overall just assumed that the whole nervous rambling dork was just a part of the façade. God, how she wishes she had seen this sooner. 

“I’m not…I’ve never…” Becky huffs again. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do…”

“Well normally when someone requests me for the night, I’m supposed to stay the night. Per my...Boss’s policy and terms of agreement, I’m supposed to give you what you what you paid for.”

Becky wishes the world would have mercy and that the floor would just open up and swallow her whole. “You don’t have to stay…” she mumbles with a sad shake of her head. “I…I don’t know how any of this works and if anything’s wrong I’ll make sure you still get paid but you really don’t have to stay. I’m sorry that this was a waste of your time.”

Sasha is silent for a moment before she gives another half shrug. “I get paid regardless.” Her tone is nearly nonchalant as she gets up from the sofa, but she still feel a pair of eyes on her as she makes her way towards entrance.

“Here, let me get your coat…” Becky voice is still quiet as she moves through her apartment.

Once again, they’re plagued by a silence, only for Becky, it’s as awkward as it is weighted. As she hands over Sasha’s coat, their fingers brush only briefly, leaving her to jerk back in response. She opens her door and respectfully stands off to the side as Sasha walks through.

“Look, I’m sorry about your friend, or whatever,” Sasha says after a moment of hesitation on her part. “For what it’s worth, they really should’ve told you about this. Just to give you a bit of a heads up or something.”

“Heh…yeah well. Guess things just kinda happen like that sometimes,” Becky does her best to try and shrug it off as she offers a tiny smile. “I guess…have a good night? And be careful with…everything that’s out there.”

“I…yeah thanks,” Sasha offers a tiny smile of her own as she tightens her coat around herself before she’s heading towards the building elevator.

Becky watches as the other woman disappears from her doorway before she’s closing the door quietly and leaning against it. Her face is hot and the sinking feeling in her chest is something that almost has her wanting to throw up.

Of course, this would happen. Her first date in she doesn’t even know how long turns out to be something completely out of left field. Getting stood up or walked out on somehow carried less of a weight than what she’s feeling right now. Perhaps that’s because this was the first person in so long she _actually_ felt like she had a connection with. At least she thought she did. Turns out _that entire thing_ had been fabricated. She’s never been more embarrassed and disappointed, but she supposes there’s a bitter twist of irony here, because it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. If tonight’s streak of bad luck was anything to go by, it probably isn’t going to be the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh Becky :/ :(
> 
> Hello again! Hopefully you guys are along for the ride on this project here. It's definitely a ride and I'm super excited to reveal some things to you! Thoughts always welcome :D


	3. Chapter 3

She unfolds herself from the vehicle with all of the grace and elegance that rivals the stereotypical poise of every single walking mannequin that's responsible for making this city famous. Upon first glance, many would think that she's one of them, but that's how things in this place tend to work isn't it? Nobody _actually_ knows who anyone is. Instead, they all take a split second look at how you dress, how you walk, how you talk, what kind of car you drive, and in that split second they've come up with the only appropriate assumption; you simply must be _somebody_.

It doesn't matter how you got it. Nobody ever really cares about the usually boring details behind all of that, even though that's actually what matters. All that matters, is you did. You've got what it takes to fit into the mold that all spells 'greatness' and for the thanks of aesthetic visual alone, you _are_ somebody.

She is the perfect photograph of all things desired. Sculpted legs accentuated by a mini variation of a pencil skirt that speaks for formalities as it does captivation. The snow colored blazer to match hugs tight in all the places it should, leaving a gap just at the bosom that is enough to garner the even the subtle attentions of any living being to have a pulse.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she exchanges silent pleasantries with the young valet. She playfully rolls her eyes as they all scramble to attention upon her approach, nearly all tripping over each other as she holds out her keys for one of them to take care of her. For a moment, she spares a glance back at her most one of her most prized possessions left running at the curb. The nonexistent purr of six hundred horses with coffee colored seats all framed by a deep navy exterior is enough to have anyone drooling at first glance. That's usually how it works. They see the car first, and for a moment all of their attention is glued to it before it's snatched by the woman who gets out of the driver's seat.

She threatens the young man she bestows with the task of parking it. She doesn't have to say anything. Her expressions speak for themselves as levels him with a silent smolder thats accented by the arch of a finely sculpted brow. The young lad jerks his head in what can only be described as a juvenile nod.

The lobby of the office building is what anyone would expect of it. Reflective floors that are punctuated by each staccato click of her heels. Security in the form of not only a dense, suited presence by the front door, but the countless hidden cameras who are strategically placed for the sole purpose of vetting every single person that comes in and out. The plain description of 'secretary' who sits behind the front desk, responsible for flagging down anyone and everyone who simply _looks_ like they shouldn't be here. All in all, it's as it should be.

The elevator ride to the top floor is a lonely one, and she couldn't be all the more thankful for that. There's something about small spaces as such that leave her more or less uncomfortable and she would prefer to spend the lengthy ride without roaming eyes and prying glances if she can help it. One of the worst things in the world is standing in a small, cramped metal box with a bunch of strangers where they all seem to have nowhere else to look, but down your shirt. The irony of the sentiment isn't lost on her, of course and that alone is almost enough to bring a tiny smirk to her lips.

The lift dings, signaling her arrival to the executive floor many in the building don't actually have access to. Security and a careful number of hands, herself included, are the only ones granted access here. The only way here is through the scan of a keycard in any of the public lifts, or direct access through the private garage that sits just below the foundation. All of which she has access to, but on this particular day, she opted for making a mundane entrance rather than a secret one.

There are a small handful people milling about. All of which women who track her steps as she moves past them. For the most part, she doesn't look at them as they look at her. Should she do so, she's certain she would fine the usual cold stares of resentment or depending on who they are, the wide eyed look of idolatry. Nevertheless, she doesn't look at them as they look at her, and instead, her attention is more focused on grasping the door to the only office on this floor. Taking a seconds pause, she does a quick mental once over of herself before she's entering the office, immediately closing the door behind her as she takes about three steps inside.

The office can only be described as bigger than most studio apartments in this city. A seating area is positioned just on the side housing floor length glass windows that grant the looker a picturesque view of the metropolitan cityscape. Across the room is your usual desk with your three piece set up. Two comfortable chairs left to one side while the opposite space is taken up by a more executive style one that sits just a bit higher than its counterparts. Presently, that chair is occupied.

A soft chuckle escapes her lips as the occupant glances at her and then quickly glances at the time of a nearby clock before once again looking back at her. Like anyone else, eyes allow themselves a moment to roam, taking in every detail of her presence before they settle back on her own eyes. For this reason alone, is why she takes her time crossing the room.

"Jesus, what time is it? I wasn't expecting you to be in so early."

"It's just a little past nine," Sasha shrugs her shoulders with an aura of casualty as she carefully sets her purse into one of the guest chairs. Instead of opting for its twin, she instead perches herself on the very corner of the desk. She does it with such a comfortability, that the indication that she's used to it isn't lost. "What time did you come in?"

The initial response is something of a scoff that is closely related to a groan. "Fuck, five thirty? Maybe six? I've been having to clean up a mess made by the idiots down in testing. Whole damn application went down for about five minutes, and for me, you know that's money lost."

Giving credit where it's due, Sasha knows the woman on her right is nothing short of a genius. That's what all the credible reads like Forbes say, anyway. Having capitalized on a generation and a society that is slowly becoming solely dependent on the world wide web for companionship, around here, money flows like water. The platform of online dating has been taken and revolutionized in such away that now not even the groundbreakers of the business stand a chance anymore.

Sasha is only part of the way listening as the other woman pushes herself away from her desk as a one sided rant ensues. Something regarding numbers and click rates and viewership, all of which get lost on her very easily as she's not exactly so much use to dealing with such things. She is however, jarred back when she's presented with a cup of coffee. The aroma wafts past her nose as she accepts the cup, and she can't help the satisfactory hum that escapes her lips at her first sip.

"You know you can't come in here dressed like this making noises like _that_. You'll make me forget about all my work."

Sasha arches an eyebrow at she presence now at her back from where she still sits on the desk. "That hasn't stopped you before..." she responds with her own hint of smugness before she takes another sip of her coffee.

"True, but I still like to think I can pretend." There's a quiet hum as Sasha feels breath at her neck and a hand sliding against her hip. "How's my girl, hm?"

Then there's the other side of the business. The side lesser known in public and even lesser talked about in private. The side where Sasha is most familiar and adversely, many are familiar with her.

It was totally by chance when Sasha had met Bayley years ago, and if you asked her at the time, she wouldn't have believed for a second that she would've ended up where she is. But she had. Now, each and every day of her life is closely dependent on her work in one way or another, and that doesn't appear to be something that'll change any time soon.

"Now that I think about it, you _are_ here kinda early." Sasha can hear the tilt in Bayley's voice, even from where she remains behind her. "I thought you had an overnight?"

Sasha snorts quietly, automatically tilting her head to the side just a bit as Bayley becomes just a bit more adventurous in exploring the skin just behind her ear. "I thought I did too. That didn't exactly go as planned."

Movement ceases, and Bayley is quickly moving around her desk to where they are now face to face. Her eyes narrow, and her face turns serious as she searches Sasha for an explanation. "What happened?"

"Nothing actually. Exactly nothing." Sasha laughs to herself as she recalls the bizarre night she spent with what she can say has been one of her strangest clients. When Bayley only continues to stare at her, she rolls her eyes. "It's not anything bad. You act like they don't always pay upfront anyways."

Somehow satisfied with the answer to her silent question, Bayley shrugs casually. "True, but I never know if someone's gonna try to come back and cause problems after the fact. It's happened before. But in that case, what didn't happen?"

Sasha shakes her head and shrugs a shoulder. "Turns out who I was there to see, wasn't who was chatting. You know that thing college guys do? Get their friend who's just turning twenty-one a stripper for his birthday? It was exactly like that, only the birthday girl had no idea what was going on."

Bayley barks out a short laugh and looks at Sasha with disbelief. "Oh my god, no way. She thought you were an actual date?"

"Yeah, she did. I was going with what was asked of me, and I all thought it was a part of her, you know, her thing or whatever. It wasn't until it was getting kinda late and she still hadn't made a move that I started thinking something was up. It was when she stopped me and said she wanted to take me out again that I actually saw it."

By now, Bayley is laughing openly, tickled to her bones as she leans back in her chair. "Christ, that's real sad. And actually, kinda pathetic."

"Yeah...it is," Sasha responds quietly. She hadn't thought about it much last night after she got home since she was so focused on the luxury of getting to crawl into her own bed alone. Thinking about it today though, does leave her feeling a little bad as she remembers that woman's blatant disappointment at finding out Sasha hadn't actually been her date.

That was actually what left Sasha feeling kind of bad about the whole thing, which is really a rarity for her. The woman had been a bit on the quirky side, and Sasha was completely surprised to find a homemade candlelit dinner set up and waiting for her when she arrived. Sure, that's the whole idea of it, go along with the other persons fantasies just as they requested, but at the end of the day, there's no amount of roleplaying that can ever cover up the real reason why she's there.

At first and even second glance she certainly didn't look like someone who would be requesting Sasha's services. It was especially after conversation started that Sasha got the full feel of just how dorky the woman was, and for a split second, _she_ was the one who felt kind of out of place. It really hadn't mattered at the time as Sasha can admit to having seen stranger things.

"Well, sucks that whoever paid won't know that they didn't even get their money's worth," Bayley flashes her a knowing smirk as she once again opts to move further behind her desk to what appears to be a safe. Only to be unlocked with keypad and biometrics, Sasha watches closely as she shuffles through the inside for a moment before producing a plain white envelope. "At least I know."

Sasha's eyes dart down to the envelop held in front of her face and from the moment she grasps it, the thinness beneath her fingers is enough to have her heart sinking just a bit. But she doesn't show it on her face. Instead, she opts to smile easily as she casually reaches over and places the envelope in her purse. She wouldn't dare step out and look at it now.

"That reminds me," Bayley starts, speaking casually as her fingers begin tracing the skin of Sasha's exposed though. Her fingers edge their way to the inside of her thigh, parting her legs atop the desk just enough for her to step into the newly created space. "I need you tonight."

As attention is returned to her neck, this time in the form of lingering kisses, Sasha's eyebrows raise slowly. "Tonight? I wasn't aware I had something else..." she allows her head to roll to the side in compliance.

Bayley's actions begin to become a bit more fervent as now her teeth lightly scrape against the skin just where Sasha's pulse beats. "You didn't, but you do now. High profile investor for competitors. I need you to make him happy enough to open his pocketbook just once."

"I see," Sasha hopes she at least kept some of the initial distaste out of her voice but is hard to keep track of any of that as her body appears to be responding to touch all on its own. She gasps quietly, arching into Bayley's palm that gives her breast a teasing squeeze just atop her jacket.

The truth of the matter is Sasha knows the type. 'Investors'. They're usually the ones with the grabbiest of hands, unbridled arrogance, and all the money in the world that renders them entitled to get whatever they want. Needless to say, she's not particularly a fan of these types, and after working the week nonstop, she had honestly been psyching herself up for this evening alone at home.

"Do you think maybe you could...send someone else?"

"Now why would I do that, when I have my best girl available..." as she speaks in a quiet hum, Bayley's fingers carefully comb their way through flowing strands of sapphire, before tracing their way to Sasha's neck. "Why would I do that, hm?"

Sasha's heart does a small jump at the sudden feeling of a thumb pressed firmly into her throat. It's not enough to hurt, but it's there just enough to be felt and remind her of how much closer it can be to her airways. It's definitely enough to have her chiding herself for saying anything at all.

"Why would I do that, Sasha?"

"I don't know." Sasha slightly shakes her head. It's not the best answer, but it's also not the worst. If anything, it _is_ enough to have the fingers removed from her neck. "What time tonight?"

"Eight. Which means I need you at my place at seven." As Bayley pulls away, her face and tone are laced with a hint of annoyance. "Should I be expecting you at seven, or am I gonna be waiting for 'someone else'?"

Looking away, Sasha swallows thickly. "I'm sorry…" the quiet apology is met with silence, and it's another beat before she turns to look at Bayley once again, only to find that the other woman's gaze has hardened another fraction. This time, Sasha has to physically will herself not to shrink back and look away. "I'm sorry."

Seemingly satisfied with the second apology, Bayley smiles. It's nothing more than a tight pull at the very corner of her mouth, but it's there, and it's sure as hell better than any alternative. "Good." She quips, giving Sasha's cheek a gentle pat before retreating back to her desk. If she had noticed the very subtle jump from the other woman, she doesn't react to it. Instead, she reclines in her chair, stretching her arms behind her head with all the casualness in the world. "It'll be good for you, you know that? I expect a lot of money from this guy. All I need you to do is keep him happy. You can do that for me, right?"

Sasha nods.

"Sasha?"

"I can do it." Sasha eventually responds.

Bayley's eyes narrow briefly, before she clicks her tongue and stands up from her chair. "You know what, you're right. Maybe I should find someone else."

Sasha's eyes immediately widened at the sudden change in tone. She knows that darkened mumble and it's on instinct alone that she reaches out to grab hold of Bayley's arm as she moves past her. "Wait, no. I'm sorry." This time, her apology is quick and almost pleading. "I'm sorry. Please. I can do it. I just—I don't know what I was—I'll be there. I'm sorry."

Bayley is silent for such a long moment that Sasha swears she can feel her own heart threatening to pound its way out of her chest. Her hold on Bayley's arm is still there, but slightly trembling as her eyes continue to speak for silent pleas. She is only able to relax, when Bayley appears to nod in acceptance.

"Alright, but I need you at your best for this, Sash." She reaches out and once again rests a hand against Sasha's cheek, only this time, she does it for the sake of making sure she holds eye contact. "I'm serious. I got a lot riding on this and I need you for that, alright?"

"I can do it. I promise."

"Good girl." Again, Bayley pats Sasha's cheek, only it's much firmer. It's not enough to hurt, but it's enough to ensure that she has Sasha's full, undivided attention. "I've got a meeting in ten. Some kind of dumb marketing bullshit. Wait here until I get back? There's something I need to go over, and I want you to help me take a look at it."

Sasha's nod is jerky, and she just barely manages a small smile as a long kiss is placed against her lips and there's a firm squeeze at her hip. She remains at the edge of the desk, listening as the other woman's footsteps retreat until finally the office door opens and closes. Letting out a quiet breath, she reaches over and grabs her purse before heading over to the little seating area on the opposite end of the office.

Lowering herself onto one of the sofas, she retrieves the small white envelope she had been handed prior. The weightlessness of it isn't lost on her and it's with great hesitance that she opens it to find pretty much exactly what she expected. Not that it makes it more or less any easier.

Sasha knows her worth. Well, in the literal aspect at least, and she knows the traditional average cost of an overnight. That traditional number is at least multiplied by three when it's a requested overnight with _her_. It's a five-figure number that can range anywhere from the low twenties to high thirties, depending on how long she's there and what all is requested of her. On paper, overnights should be trampled for. Girls should be clawing over one another to do anything they can to make themselves appear appealing for the job. That's how it should be, on paper.

In reality, it's much more complicated than that and Sasha can't help but sigh at those complications as she counts out the contents of the envelope only to come up with less than one fourth of what she _knows_ was the requested value of her job last night. But this is the way things are. After the necessary cuts are made, this is what she's left with. She releases a shaky breath as she can't even allow herself the moment to do the math in her head regarding her own personal life expenses that this won't exactly cover. But that's the state of the business, and unfortunately, she doesn't have much of a say in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely looking to get back on track with this one. As always, thank you for reading. Thoughts always welcome :)


	4. Chapter 4

With her shoulders tense and her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her hoodie, Becky’s footfalls are heavy as she storms off of the elevator. With each step down the hall, her frown deepens and by the time she is standing in front of a particular door, she is the perfect rendition of a cartoon character that’s seconds away from having smoke billowing out of her ears. But it doesn’t. Instead, she’s left quickly fishing in her products only to produce a keyring moments later. She harshly glares at it up until she recognizes just the key she’s looking for, and she’s quickly inserting it onto the door.

The locks give way with ease and Becky finds herself admitted inside. She’s welcomed with the aura of breakfast and 80s rock blasting somewhere off in the distance. With her scowl still in place, Becky follows the music and it’s not long before she’s wondering past the living room and into a much more open area of the penthouse. It’s here where she finds just the woman she’s looking for in the very center of the room, surrounded by weights and plates of varying sizes. Her attention is mostly consumed by her current set of chest presses and she appears to not even have heard Becky come in.

Rolling her eyes, Becky glances around the room for a second before finding the speaker blasting from where it sits in the corner of the room. Stalking over to it, she slams a fist down on top of it, successfully killing the song and plunging the room into silence.

“What the fuck—”

Becky clenches her fists at her sides as she swatches her best friend sit up from her bench and set her weights to the side. At being caught off guard, Ronda glares initially before realization crosses her face only to be replaced seconds later by a look of complete confusion.

“Becks, hey—HEY!”

Within a second, Becky has crossed the room and thrown a punch that was absolutely intended to leave a mark square on Ronda’s jaw. Unfortunately, she’s a bit outmatched by speed and Ronda parries the jab with ease, straightening up on instinct as Becky continues to advance on her.

“Hey! What are you—” Ronda is cut off when Becky tries to punch her again. “What the fuck!?”

“Fuck you,” Becky hisses and instead of throwing another punch, she opts for a harsh shove instead.

Despite besting Becky in overall physical composition, the force behind the push is enough to have Ronda stumbling back a foot or two and she reaches out to catch herself just in time to prevent herself from taking a nasty tumble over her weight bench. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Becky scoffs bitterly before barking out a mirthless chuckle as she continues to advance on her friend. “Me!? You’re asking what the hell is wrong with _me_!?” the volume in her voice only increases as she kicks in Ronda’s direction. “What the fuck is wrong with you!? How could you do that to me!?”

Ronda is silent and she continues to blink in confusion while staring at her seething friend. “Okay…obviously you’re up set about something and it must be an emergency seeing as you’re in here with the key I gave you for, you know, _emergencies_. You wanna tell me what this is about?”

Becky tilts her head back and makes a noise that’s a cross between something of a groan and a scream. “Are you _fucking_ serious right now, Ronda? Seriously? I seriously have to explain this to you after you know _damn well_ what you fucking did? What you fucking sent to my house last night?”

Now, Ronda’s look of confusion is replaced with one of realization and her mouth falls open to form into a perfect ‘O’ shape. “Ohhh, right!” she exclaims, eyes now beaming with interest. “How was it??? Did I tell you she was out of the world hot???”

“Yeah, you did. What you didn’t tell me was that she’s a…she was a…” Becky falters and huffs as she can’t even bring herself to say the words. “Why would you send someone like that?”

“Hey, look. It was your birthday and I just wanted you to have some fun, alright?” Ronda shrugs her shoulders, a blatant indication that she doesn’t see a problem with anything that may or may not have taken place. She looks at Becky again and her face splits into an interested grin. “Well though, how was it? I mean did you, you know…” she lifts her eyebrows.

Becky splutters and continues to seethe despite the fact her face has now flushed a deep shade of red. “Are you fucking serious!? No, I didn’t! I thought it was a—never mind the fact that she was a…” she trails off and her shoulders slump. “ _Worker_ …”

“Yeah, and a damn expensive one at that.” Ronda quickly shakes her head. “Wait, wait, so you didn’t!? At all!? Becks!”

“What!”

“What do you mean ‘what’! I paid a lot of money for her to show up last night! You didn’t even get it on with her!? Not even a little bit!?”

Becky can only stare at Ronda in complete disbelief. She recognizes that this is her best friend and subsequently the most important person in her life. All of that being said, she swears that the other woman can be so stupid sometimes and this is one of those times where Becky wants to pick up one of those Olympic plates laying nearby and knock Ronda’s whole head in. The worst part of it all, is she _knows_ that Ronda had the best of intentions, and she’s being a hundred percent genuine in her obliviousness.

Shaking her head, Becky folds her arms as she finds her shoulders slumping even more. “You know that’s not really my thing, dude. I’m not…I never really wanted to…” losing her words, she huffs and shakes her head again. “I haven’t had anything real in a long time and I guess I just thought…I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Hearing the dejectedness in the other woman’s voice, the corners of Ronda’s lips tug downward. “Aw shit, Becks. I’m sorry. I really thought you would’ve figured it out and been into it after. I really didn’t expect you to you know, fall in love with her or whatever.”

“I didn’t ‘fall in love’,” Becky rolls her eyes after speaking with obvious exaggeration.

Her eyebrows do furrow together as she recalls the not-so-date date and she honestly can’t even pinpoint the last time she had that much fun spending time with another person. Everything had been so relaxed and at the time, she had thought they had so much in common. Everything felt so _real_ and for Becky, she was honestly pinching herself at the time over the fact that someone so beautiful could exist while simultaneously sharing some common interests. To find out that it had all been fabricated left a twisted knot that sat in the pit of her stomach for the better part of the night.

“I dunno man, she was just…she was really beautiful, but it wasn’t just that, you know? Us liking a lot of the same things and stuff. She was really easy to talk to. She, heh, she laughed at my jokes even though we both know I’m not all that funny. It was just nice, I guess.”

Ronda sighs and guiltily drags a hand through her ponytail. “Jesus, Becks…I’m sorry. Really, I am. I didn’t know it’d be…like that? I kinda assumed those kinds of things were kinda campy, and you could just tell what was up even with the whole fantasy thing or whatever.”

Becky is soon quickly shaking her head, frown in place as she tries to figure out how the hell they ended up here in the first place. “Wait, how the fuck did you…where did you know to find a hooker!?”

“Awh shit, you didn’t say that did you? A girl that expensive, I don’t think they like being called hookers,” Ronda shrugs her shoulders before reaching for her phone, opting to explain as she begins to scroll through it. “It’s not my account, by the way, I got it from a friend. There’s this app, it’s like one of those dating apps where you can meet people and chat it up, you know, the normal stuff. Apparently, there’s like a package system. You know how you can pay to see who swipes on you and stuff like that? Same here. Except it has this extra package where you can like, I guess pay to chat with certain girls and if you want them to show up, well, they will.” She passes her phone over to Becky. “That’s where I found your girl.”

It’s with great hesitancy that Becky takes the phone and begins to scroll where Ronda had left off. Immediately, her eyes are widening as she scrolls past what appears to be a never-ending list of women who are in varying states of dress, all posing suggestively. “There’s no way this is legal…” she mumbles, shaking her head as she continues to scroll. Her breathing hitches audibly and she finds herself stopping at a familiar face.

_‘Sasha’_

Becky hesitantly taps on the woman’s picture and she’s redirected to another page that brings up more photos, a quick bio section, and the option to chat. Scrolling further down, she finds a table listing off varying sets of numbers, and she stares at it in confusion. It’s not long before her eyes are getting comically wide as she realizes that they’re prices.

“Ronnie!” Becky hisses as she turns the screen around and all but shoves it in Ronda’s face. “Please tell me you didn’t pay _that_ to have this woman show up at my house!”

Ronda squints and leans in to peer at the screen. “No, I actually paid more than that ‘cause she was supposed to stay overnight.”

Once again shocked into a disbelieving silence, Becky drops the phone back into Ronda’s lap. “You should delete that…” she mumbles quietly, dragging a hand through her hair as she once again appears to be taking it all in. “So that’s how it works? You go in there and talk about what you want, and they just show up and…?”

“Ah, yeah. That’s pretty much how it all goes down.”

“So that’s how she knew everything I liked. Because you told her…”

Looking like a guilty child, Ronda nods slowly. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. It was just—it was your birthday, dude. I didn’t want you to spend it alone again.”

Despite coming in hot, Becky eases off because she knows Ronda really did have good intentions, however fucked up they might’ve been. “I appreciate it, I guess…” she mumbles quietly, ducking her head in embarrassment as she hates that she took all of this so seriously.

“Listen, I know how bad this is, but I wanna make it up to you,” Ronda reaches out and claps Becky on the shoulder. “Drinks tonight? It’ll be just us and we can go to that place you like. You know, the one that does that cheese fry basket? And the fried pickles?”

Becky laughs quietly. “Only you would pick fried food as a peace offering.”

“Is it working?”

“…Kind of. We’ll go at eight?”

With the agreement set, Becky at least hopes that a relaxing night out will salvage what’s left of her birthday weekend.

* * *

Sitting comfortably in a booth with beer, bar food, and her best friend is honestly how Becky would’ve much rather spent her birthday as opposed to the whiplash experience she got last night. Well, the more she thought about it, she would’ve much rather have spent it with her blind date in question, if in fact, by some twist of fate, she actually had turned out to be a blind date. She’s actually caught herself wondering on a few occasions, would she have actually had a chance with someone like Sasha? The layman’s answer would be ‘absolutely fucking not’ seeing as just looking at the woman had Becky immediately feeling like she was out of her league. But still, she hasn’t been able to stop bothering herself with the useless what ifs.

Hearing ice shift in front of her, Becky is brought back to reality by Ronda grabbing another beer from the bucket they’ve been sharing between the two of them. Looking down at her own, she’s made aware that she hasn’t much been drinking it, as it’s pretty much still half full and has created a condensation puddle on the table. The entire time she’s been thinking, she’s pretty much peeled the label from around the bottle completely.

“What’s on your mind, dude?” Ronda asks, following a hearty swig.

“You remember how we used to joke in high school? How you used to always say I’m probably gonna be the one to get married first?” Becky implores, her voice covered with low humor and reminiscence.

Ronda, however, barks out a laugh as she reaches for the basket of fried pickles between them. “Hell yeah. I used to say that because you’ve always been the one to wear your heart on your sleeve and believe in all that romance stuff.” She pauses to take another swig from her beer before angling to barrel in Becky’s direction. “You also wear sweater vests.” 

Rolling her eyes, Becky ignores the jab and still doesn’t lift her gaze. “I’m starting to think you might beat me to it. Even with that Live Free, Care None attitude you’ve got.”

“Pfft, hell no. I don’t wanna get married.” Ronda shakes her head vigorously while her face is scrunched in disgust. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m sure it’s the right thing for some people. But I’m not some people. No thanks.”

“Well shit, you at least, you know…women actually show up for dates with you. Then when they’re there, they don’t run out on you…”

Wincing at the deflated statement, Ronda carefully combs over a response in her head. “Alright, let’s figure this out then.” She sets her bottle down with finality and folds her hands while leaning across the table slightly. “Tell me what happened on your last date?”

Becky grimaces as she remembers exactly how long it’s been, and it hadn’t exactly gone well. “She was someone from the office. We worked on a project together and we kinda started talking. I thought I was picking up vibes, so I asked her out. We um…we went to dinner and it was kind of awkward? She wasn’t wanting to talk as much and finally it just came out that she only went out with me because her friends talked her into it…and she felt bad for me…”

“Jesus Christ…” Ronda groans, pinching the bridge of her nose as she sits back in the booth. “What did you guys talk about?”

“Just the normal stuff? Work? What we did on the weekends. Well, it was mostly me talking and she was just kinda nodding along. Do I talk to much?” Becky’s eyes suddenly go wide. “Is it the accent?”

Ronda snorts and shakes her head. “No, it’s not the—”

“Do I need to learn how to talk…American?” Becky blinks innocently. “I don’t know if I know how.”

“Please! Don’t…do that. I’ve heard you try to sound American and I’d rather listen to dying cats.” Ronda is quick to shake her head. “It’s not the accent, dude. You’d be surprised how many women are actually really into accents.”

Becky huffs and slumps. “Then I don’t know what it is, man. Like, I’m always just myself! Sure, I might not be like the rest of the lot who lives here. You know, money, cars, top floor penthouses. No offense.” She tags on before continuing. “But I’m still pretty well off? I’ve got my life together. I have a nice job. What am I missing?”

“Becks, have you ever thought that these things haven’t worked out, maybe because you haven’t found the person you’re supposed to be with?”

Becky frowns, because that’s probably the most strait-laced thing Ronda has said to her all day. “Well how am I supposed to know that when everyone runs out before the damn appetizer even comes out? Am I just too fucking boring?”

Ronda hums quietly and rolls her head back and forth. “Ahh, I mean you could use a bit of more…color? Like I mean, not saying you’re _boring_ , just sometimes the most colorful thing about you can be your hair. Maybe it’ll help you to get out and actually _do_ things, instead of spending so much time chained to your work desk. That way you’ll have a new burst of something new and something to talk about other than housing taxes and homeowner’s association costs.” There’s a momentary pause before she perks up. “I know! You and I haven’t taken a trip in a while. Why don’t we do something awesome. Like hit the slopes or something.”

Becky scoffs. “Ronnie, I haven’t been skiing in I don’t know how long. I’ll break my fucking neck.”

“See! That’s the thing. You haven’t been in a long time, so why not just go? Even if you don’t spend the whole time on the slopes, at least you can say you went? We gotta get you out, Becky. Nothing’s gonna change with you sitting at home, going to work, then wash, rinse, repeat.”

Ronda might be right, and Becky knows it, though it would pretty much halfway kill her to admit to that out loud. Outside of work, she doesn’t really remember the last time she did anything notable liken taking a trip, or hell, even going to the movies. Most times, as of late, she’ll get excited to try a new recipe she found on the internet, but she can see how even that can come off as a bit stale.

“Maybe you’re on to something,” Becky mumbles while taking a sip of her beer. “Maybe we really do need to just…take a trip somewhere. It has been a while.”

“Too fucking long.” Ronda nods in agreement before slapping her hands on the table. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick, and when I can get back, we can start planning a weekend that will not only get you out of the house, but who knows, maybe we’ll find your future wife on the bunny slopes.”

Becky rolls her eyes and flips her best friend the bird as she slides out of the booth. Left alone at the table, Becky can only sigh again as the weight of the prior conversation eases up off her shoulders just slightly. She reaches for a fry and continues to much as she aimlessly glances around the bar. It’s busy tonight, as it should be seeing as it’s a weekend, so it doesn’t surprise her to see any and all kinds of people milling about from the bar to the billiards section set up in the back.

What does stand out though, is a familiar head of blue hair seated alone at a more secluded table across the bar. Becky’s eyes skim over, but she’s immediately doing a double take as her brain finally catches up with her. Frowning, she continues to stare, wondering all the while if it’s her eyes that are playing tricks on her.

Only it’s not, and it is in fact the woman who was in her apartment just twenty-four hours ago. While this particular bar, does seem to pull a wide variety of patrons, the woman still looks incredibly out of place in all her regality against the backsplash of common people. She’s definitely not a regular here either. Becky would know _that_ as a fact.

She has no idea what possesses her to do so, but she’s finishing off her drink with one final gulp before she’s sliding out of her own booth. Her feet seem to be moving on their own accord as she’s moving across the bar to where the beautiful woman sits primely. For a moment, Becky’s eyes roam on their own as they take in the tight black leather skirt and her eloquently sequenced strapless top. She’s just as beautiful, if not more than what Becky remembers, and it takes her a second as she has to swallow against the newly appeared dryness in her throat.

“Um, h-hey.”

Sasha startles and her head quickly snaps to the side in the direction of the source. For a moment, her eyes narrow before her face is colored with recognition. “Hello…?” the word is drawn out and slow as she speaks, skepticism dripping from each syllable as she continues to eye the newcomer curiously. 

“Hey.” Becky repeats again, this time lifting her hand to reflect the word in action. “Is it okay I…?” she gestures to the empty booth across from Sasha.

“Um…” It’s obvious that Becky misses how Sasha momentarily glances over her shoulder, and she looks to be even more confused as she turns back to find the woman now sitting across from her. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh! I’m just here with my friend. She had to step away for a sec and I saw you sitting over here, and I wanted to…” Becky trails off because why _is_ she here? Even she doesn’t exactly now. “I saw you and I guess I just wanted to apologize. For last night.”

Sasha raises her eyebrows. “You wanted to…apologize?” she echoes slowly.

Becky only nods. “Yeah uh, it was weird, for me and I’m sure it was weird for you and probably a huge waste of your time.”

“It’s no problem,” Sasha shifts uncomfortably and once again glances around.

But Becky doesn’t notice it as she continues to talk. “No, no I know, and I know you said you still get paid, but still, I just feel bad about the whole thing.”

Sasha blinks confusedly. “Well thank you. Listen, I’m actually—”

“Ahh, sorry ‘bout that. Draining the dragon took a little more time than I thought it would.”

Becky’s gaze immediately snaps to the new voice joining them and she’s immediately repulsed by the man who slides into the booth on Sasha’s side. His suit is ill-fitting and yet, that’s probably the least problematic thing about him. His unkept facial hair and grease like hair pulled back into one of those tacky hipster buns is enough to leave her skins crawling. All in all, Becky concludes that he’s absolutely one of those fuckers who would walk around without a shirt, even though he should at all times need one.

“Who’s your friend?”

The scratchiness of his voice grates like nails on a chalkboard, and Becky bites down hard on her back teeth as she has to physically suppress a grimace. That proves to become incredibly difficult, as he seems to redirect his full attention to Sasha. His hands are absolutely unapologetic and disregarding to the public as he takes pride in openly groping her, before pulling her into his side.

“I can’t wait to get you out of here, you know that?”

The sentence, though spoken quietly to the other woman across the table, doesn’t get lost on Becky’s ears. Neither does the way that Sasha continues to shift uncomfortably against his hold, all the while trying to maintain a neutral smile. The whole thing doesn’t sit right with Becky, and it’s as his hand disappears beneath the table only for Sasha to jolt only a few seconds later, does she find herself speaking up.

“Hey, why don’t you keep those hands of yours respectable?”

It’s as if a bomb had been dropped, and the firmly laced question is leaving her mouth before Becky can do anything to stop it.

Across the table, Sasha’s eyes go impossible wide and the man freezes before slowly lifting his head to level Becky with a disgusted glare.

“And who the hell are you to tell _me_ what to do with _my_ hands, huh?” He immediately turns his glare towards Sasha. “Who the hell is that, huh?”

Sasha is quickly shaking her head. “I—I, she’s…”

“Well, she obviously doesn’t want you touching her like that.” Becky continues on. “At least I’m someone who knows how to pick up when a woman doesn’t want it.”

He stares coldly at Becky again before he scoffs and slides out of the booth. “You know what? Fuck that. I’m not paying for that.”

Sasha looks like she pales about three shades and she’s quickly scrambling after him. “No, wait. I don’t know who that is! We can-we can just go.”

Becky can only watch in confusion as Sasha trails behind the man as he storms towards the exit. Her heart is pounding in her chest from the adrenaline of telling that limp dick off, and before she can even think about what to do next, there’s a harsh staccato click of heels returning back to the table. She has just barely looked up before she finds cold liquid splashing her face.

“Who the hell do you think you are!?” Sasha exclaims, slamming her now empty glass back down onto the table while she glares holes into the woman still sitting at her table. “Do you have any idea what you just did!? Oh my fucking god!”

Becky blinks owlishly as Sasha storms away from the table again and like a freight train, it begins to hit her that the asshole might now have been just an ordinary jackass date. “Christ…” she groans. She quickly uses a nearby napkin to wipe some of the cocktail from her face. It doesn’t do much, but she doesn’t care as she quickly springing from the booth and sprinting towards the door in hopes to catch up to the other woman.

“Hey, wait!”

By the time she gets outside, Sasha hasn’t gotten very far, and Becky instinctively reaches out to grab her arm to keep her from going any further. Sasha jerks her arm out of the grip and in one fluid motion, she slaps Becky hard across the face that leaves a lasting echo on the busy streets.

“Take your damn hands off me!” She all but screeches through her teeth. Her shoulders are heaving, and her face is angry, but if one were to look close enough, they would be able to see the wild panic in her eyes. “Do you have any idea what you just did!?”

“No, no, I’m sorry!” Becky shakes her head and places a hand to her face, wincing when she’s made aware of the effects of the slap. “Christ, I am _so sorry_. I thought he was just…and you seemed so uncomfortable, I wasn’t just gonna let him—”

“I don’t _need_ you to ‘save me’,” Sasha spits bitterly. “I don’t even know who the hell you are, but you have no fucking idea what you just did.”

Becky works her jaw several times, unsure of what to say as her words appearing to be failing her by the second. “I-I’m so sorry. I know that doesn’t do anything but,” she rakes a hand through her hair while trying to come up with any solution for what happened. “I can make it up to you. Let me make it up to you.”

Sasha scoffs. “ _You?_ ” she snorts mirthlessly and rolls her eyes. “You…you just…” she scoffs one last time, but when she speaks again, her voice is quiet and almost...afraid? “You have no fucking idea.”

Her jacket and hair are still damp from the drink and she smells of alcohol, but that’s the very last thing on her mind. She wants to call out once more, but her words don’t come. Instead, Becky can only watch helplessly as the woman storms off again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh....leave your thoughts?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading this one! A bit of a filler, but I hope you all enjoy :D

Sleeping entirely through the night tends to mean absolutely nothing when you manage to do it restlessly. Sasha can absolutely attest to that as truth when she opens her eyes only to find out that she’s just as equally, if not more exhausted than she had been the moment she laid down. At the time, she had commended herself on being able to fall asleep at all, given the fact that her adrenaline was still somewhat high when she called it a night. That in itself was enough to attribute to her restlessness and it certainly hadn’t helped her any come morning.

The sheets pool in her lap as she finds herself rubbing at her temples to fend off an oncoming early morning headache. Her eyes blink tiredly and on instinct, she reaches for her phone to check the time. It isn’t until the device is in her fingers, that a feeling of unease settles deep in the pits of her stomach, and it’s with great hesitancy that she stares at it without unlocking the screen. For a second, she looks up, and peers through the sheer white curtains that have been left part of the way open in her bedroom.

With her phone still in bed, Sasha crawls out of. Bed and moves closer to the floor to ceiling windows that make up nearly the entirety of a single wall in her bedroom. The sun hasn’t come close to reaching its mid-point in the sky, but it’s above the buildings just enough for her to know its somewhere between early and mid-morning.

 _Ivory Tower/noun/A state of privileged seclusion or separations from the facts and practicalities of the real_ _world_.

From the top floor of one of the tallest residencies in the area, Sasha chuckles quietly as she presses her fingers against the cool glass of the window. The sun is too high in the sky and her own reflection is almost nonexistent as she stares out over the vast cityscape, she calls home. No. A place to live. She can say with confidence that she can’t remember a time where she’s lived in a place she’s called ‘home’. The connotation of home and a place where you lay your head at night are vastly different, and Sasha often feels like she’s one of the few people left in this silicon city that might have a vague understanding of that.

For now, at least.

Sasha often wonders if what she thought were her own understandings have become nothing more than deluded misinterpretations. Maybe she’s exactly like the rest of them. She’s certainly not better than them. She’s not sure that’s something she ever once thought. Perhaps at one point she thought she was different, but never better. Now? Well now, most times she’s just not sure what she is anymore.

She remembers her phone in her hand and she glances down at the inanimate object that seems to carry a weighted presence of its own as she feels like it’s staring right back at her. Her heart speeds up as she wills her thumb to tap against the blank screen. As the screen lights up, her silent apprehensions are confirmed as she finds her lock screen littered with notifications. She doesn’t read any of them. She can’t. Instead, she drops her phone back off onto her bed where it lands face down. She forgoes looking at it even more as she momentarily disappears into her walk-in closet and when she reemerges, she’s donning a comfortable silk robe that flows around her ankles with elegance as she moves to complete her morning routine.

Once finally exiting her bathroom, she tightens the sash of her robe and exits her bedroom. It’s colder than she remembers it when she had come in the night prior and she finds herself shivering involuntarily as her feet come into contact with the cold reinforced glass steps as she descends them. Her place is quiet for the most part as she remembers she hadn’t left anything on in favor of heading straight to bed. Her staircase grants her access to her lounge and immediately she’s left frozen at the very base of the stairs. Her hand instinctively grips the hold metal railing, and though her stomach somehow manages to sink even more, she doesn’t physically react to it. Instead, she remains still as she locks eyes with the woman sitting several paces away in her living room.

“I-I didn’t know you were coming by…” licking her suddenly dry lips, Sasha can’t stop herself as her eyes quickly dart around the room. They eventually long on the near empty glass in the other woman’s hand, no doubt commandeered from her own stash.

Bayley breaks her silence with something of a quiet hum and a pull at her lips that does not at all reach her eyes. Her gaze doesn’t waver from Sasha’s even as she swirls the remaining liquid in her glass before quickly downing the remaining contents. The normal burn of straight alcohol leaves no visible effect, and her facial expression doesn’t change as she slowly rises from the chair and moves across the room to the lounge bar. Setting the glass atop the bar top, she hums again, while bracing her hands against the wood.

“Come here, Sasha.”

Swallowing against the tightness in her throat that only seems to be getting worse by the second proves to be exceedingly difficult. Knowing better than to wait it out to be told again, she carefully approaches the bar, keeping about a foots distance between the two of them. For a moment, all is silent before Bayley turns and faces her. Sasha instinctively jolts, but she hopes that it was subtle enough for it to be missed.

Bayley’s minimal sideways smile returns as she reaches out and carefully twirls an escaped strand of blue hair around her fingers. “You weren’t answering your phone.” She tilts her head before transitioning to gently stroke Sasha’s face with her knuckles.

“I got in kind of late,” Sasha responds quietly, working to keep the tremble out of her voice as Bayley’s fingers gently trace over her skin before settling at her throat. “It was…kind of a rough night.”

“Hmm. I heard.” A pause. “What happened?”

Sasha’s mouth works on its own, but as words don’t come, she’s left shaking her head. “I don’t know…” are the first whispered words that leave her mouth without her own consent.

“Hmm...You don’t know, huh.”

Sasha yelps as she fingers ghosting her throat transition into a full-on grip. The grip tightens around the back of her neck and she finds her right arm jerked tightly as Bayley grabs her. Within seconds, she finds herself harshly dragged across her lounge where soon her face is pressed into the window that overlooks the city.

“Bayley!” She gasps, whimpering as Bayley pressed harder on the back of her neck and wrenches her arm tighter.

“What do you see when you look out this window, Sasha?” Bayley rolls her eyes when she doesn’t get an immediate response, and it only makes her tighten her hold on the other woman. “Fucking _answer me_. What do you see?”

Her forehead is becoming sore from being pressed into the glass and Sasha finds herself having to blink back tears as she shakes her head. “I-I don’t know.”

Bayley’s bitter laugh is as loud as it is jarring, and it leaves a chill at the base of Sasha’s neck. “You’re doing a fuck ton of not knowing shit lately,” she scoffs. “You know what _I_ see, Sasha? I see a view that anyone would kill for to be where we stand at this exact moment. I see a city that I could literally buy and sell _twice_ if I wanted to. I see that _I_ have been the one to give you everything you could have ever imagined. Now,” she interrupts herself with another bitter laugh, shaking her head almost as if she’s trying to make sense of things. “Now how can I _do_ that Sasha, when you screw with my money!?” 

Sasha closes her eyes and wills herself to become as calm as possible despite the immense soreness starting to settle in. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is quiet as she shakes her head. “I didn’t mean-I don’t know, okay? I-I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. That’s all you fuckin’ know how to say lately.” Bayley releases her hold before moving away to pace the room silently.

Seemingly calming herself, she breaks her own silence with a quiet sigh. She combs her short hair back with her fingers before propping that same hand on her hip. When she looks at Sasha again, her initial lackadaisical gaze is replaced by a hardened stare.

“What the fuck happened last night?”

“I—” Holding her arm close to herself, Sasha immediately cuts herself off, lest she finds herself worse off than she was only moments ago. What she also doesn’t know is how much Bayley _does_ , and she decides to keep that in the forefront of her mind as she calculates what she’s going to say next. “I did everything you said. You know, about keeping him happy. He picked out some dive bar and we sat there for a while before he just…I don’t know. He just wasn’t feeling it anymore, I guess?”

Bayley’s eyes are narrowed. “You did everything he asked?”

“I would have.” Sasha nods quickly. “You told me too and I-I would have.”

Though she doesn’t appear satisfied, Bayley digs her palms into her eyes and sits back down in the chair she had been previously occupying the first time Sasha entered the lounge. “I had a lot of money riding on that, Sasha. _A lot_ of fucking money!”

Wincing, Sasha carefully maneuvers herself onto the arm of the chair. She’s hesitant as she reaches out and begins gently massaging the other woman’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. I did everything he asked, everything _you_ asked, I’m sorry…”

Bayley’s sigh is heavy as she eventually drags her hands down her face. “You’ll make up for it, I’ve got no worries about that.” She sits back in the chair and slips an arm around Sasha’s waist from where she sits. “it’s just business stuff, you know? It’s important.”

“I know…”

“No. You don’t. But that’s okay. You’ll make up for it.” Giving Sasha’s hip a squeeze, Bayley rises from the chair and moves back over towards the bar. “You’ve got a job tonight.”

Sasha is thankful Bayley’s back is turned to her, so she doesn’t see the way her shoulders immediately deflate. It had perhaps been a little foolish on her own part for thinking that she would have a just a day, much less an entire evening to herself. With how things have been lately, more specifically, requests for her services, she honestly can’t remember the last time she spent a quiet night in.

“What is it?” She asks carefully.

Bayley shrugs. “Nothing out of the ordinary. You show up, give them what they want for however long, and you leave. No special requests or anything.”

“Oh…” Sasha rubs at the back of her neck, wincing at the soreness that still remains from Bayley’s earlier outburst. While she hadn’t been leaping at the opportunity of another overnight, she could absolutely use the money what with bills, and payments begins due relatively soon. “Is it anyone important?”

“Some no name just looking for a good time.” Bayley turns from the bar with a new drink in hand, leveling Sasha with a look of what feels like warning. “You’ve got this one, right? No more of this ‘I don’t know shit’?”

“Yes, I’ve got it…”

Sasha’s voice is quiet as she response, and though she tries her best to smile, it doesn’t fully reach her eyes. But for now, it’s just convincing enough to not be asked anymore questions, and for now, that’s all she really needs.

* * *

Sasha double checks her makeup in her handheld mirror as she waits for the elevator to reach the penthouse suite of the building. It’s a nice place, not anywhere near as nice as hers, but she can give credit where its due on someone’s taste in modesty while also still satisfying the adjoining pleasures of the finer things in life. The fact that she’s headed to the penthouse suit alone, lets her know that this is someone who fits right in with the rest of her clientele.

The lift eventually dings, signaling her arrival to the top floor. Dropping her compact into her purse, Sasha does a quick once over of herself as she steps off of the elevator. She passes through the short corridor leading to the only door of residency on this floor. Reaching the door, she takes a small breath before she reaches out to knock.

Taking a half-step back, she combs her fingers through her hair and puts on her best neutral smile as she waits. Last second, she glances down at her top and opts to teasingly open another button. She’s not left to wait for long as the locks are soon turning on the other side. The moment the door opens, however, Sasha’s eyes immediately go wide and her jaw drops.

“You!?”

The woman standing on the other side of the door laughs nervously and scratches the back of her head. “Heh. Me…”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Sasha folds her arms and doesn’t make any notion to enter the apartment, but she also doesn’t move to leave either. “What the hell am I doing here?”

“I, um…I paid for a night.” The woman nervously smiles and opens the door a little wider.

Rolling her eyes, Sasha flips her hair as she quickly sweeps into the apartment. Well, penthouse. It’s significantly bigger than the last plaid they had been in the last time they saw each other. Which makes this all the more questionable as to why she’s here in the first place. Her eyes narrow as she’s eventually joined by the other woman in the living room.

“Well,” Sasha unceremoniously drops her purse onto the sofa an begins unbuttoning her shirt. “Let’s just get it out of the way then.”

“Wait! No, you don’t, ah, you don’t have to do that.” The woman has turned a vibrant shade of her while she awkwardly rubs at the back of her neck. “I don’t want to sleep with you.”

Sasha’s eyes narrow into impossibly thin slits. “Well then what the hell am I doing here?” she shakes her head. “I don’t even remember your name!”

“Ah, I didn’t expect you to.” The woman ducks her head. “Becky…I’m Becky.”

“Well, _Becky_ , don’t you have anything better you could possibly be doing than paying for ‘dates’ when you can just go out and find some local boring blonde at a bar who I’m sure is more than willing to spend the night with you?”

Becky initially winces at the comment, but she’s left chuckling nervously. “Heh, that’s easier said than done, to be honest...”

Sasha raises an eyebrow, but she’s unsure what to make of it, so she opts out of responding. “Well still, if you need… _this_ or whatever, you know there are cheaper options other than me, right? We all do the same thing, if you just need someone to stare at you for a few hours.”

“No, I know, okay? I know it’s weird. It was weird the first time, and the fact that you’re here again is probably even weirder, but I just—” Becky cuts herself off to huff irritably as she appears to find herself losing track of her words. “I wanted to apologize for last night and I realized I didn’t have your number or anything and this was literally the only way I knew how.”

This is exactly what caused everything to fall through last night. This nerd’s self-proclaimed need to apologize for something that Sasha really didn’t even need an apology for. She had been so thrown off by seeing the woman again after not even twenty-four hours, that _she_ was the one rendered speechless, and from there, that train wreck happened.

Slowly shaking her head in disbelief, Sasha is having a hard time processing this to where it makes sense. “You _paid_ to apologize to me? Do you even,” she laughs at the absurdity of it. “Do you even know how insane that is? Do you even realize how much me standing here is costing you!?”

“I know. I know,” Becky nods before holding her hands out. “But I wanted to, and this was the only way I knew how. I even asked my friend if I could borrow her place, ‘cause I figured if you saw my address from before then you’d know and you wouldn’t show. Listen,” she sighs, and her shoulders drop. “It’s not just about apologizing, okay? It’s about last night. Obviously, I ruined something for you, and I had no idea and I really, _really_ want to fix that, if there’s anything I can do.”

“You’re serious?” Sasha can only stare at this woman with the same unbridled disbelief as before. “You seriously think that’s something that can just be _fixed_?”

Becky’s mouth quickly falls open, as if she had a response at the ready, but the silence absolutely proves that she hadn’t. “I don’t know, that’s why I wanted to—fuck, I wanted to try. Last night you seemed pretty uncomfortable and upset. I shouldn’t have just, came over like I did because I didn’t know you were, you know, working. But seeing that creep all over you like that and you didn’t seem like you wanted it, I couldn’t help it.”

The innocence that colors Becky’s face is something that has Sasha’s heart sinking just a bit. She sighs quietly and shakes her head before she helps herself to a seat on the very edge of the sofa. “Well, believe it or not, I deal with a lot of people touching me. That’s what I _do_.”

“I know that. I don’t understand it entirely, but I know that _now_ and that’s why I wanna fix it.”

Sasha wraps her arms around herself as she recalls that night. While it was a job, it was the first time in a while where she had indeed felt like a person. Where, for the time being, it seemed like someone cared enough to see her as a person and not what she could do for them. If she had been anyone else in a different life, maybe, just maybe she would’ve taken a few more moments to enjoy it.

“What world do you live in?” Sasha laughs quietly while shaking her head.

“One where you get to be treated like a person…no matter what you do.” Becky carefully takes a seat on the opposite end of the ouch. “Please tell me there’s a way I can fix it?”

For reasons unknown, Sasha feels her face suddenly go warm at the gentleness of the stranger’s prodding. “You don’t even know me, and you want to help. Why?”

Becky worries her bottom lip for a moment before she shrugs. “I’m the one that screwed up whatever you had going last night. I just wanted to know if I could make that up to you.”

“What you do at that boring little office job of yours wouldn’t be enough to cover last night even if you owned the place,” Sasha’s humor is cold, and she sounds almost tired as she appears to get lost deep in thought. “Since I’m here. Can I ask you something? Honestly?”

“Of course,” Becky’s nod is a bit eager.

“That night. You honestly had no idea? You were seriously set up by your friend?”

Becky’s gaze drops to her hands before she nods again. “Yeah, I…not that it’s important, but I don’t really date much, so she was just trying to you know, help out without any of the extra work being involved or something. I literally had no idea, but all that aside…” she takes a shaky breath. “I did have a really nice time…”

Shaking her head, the only thing Sasha can do is chuckle quietly. “You’re real weird, Becky. You know that, don’t you?”

Catching Sasha’s tiny smile, Becky can’t help but grin. “Well, where would we be if we were all just a bit weird, yeah?”

Sasha playfully rolls her eyes. For the life of her, she can’t figure out why she’s indulging this woman. Perhaps it’s the looming fear of missing out on another night’s pay. Or perhaps it’s something else that has her part of the way intrigued. Regardless of what it is, Sasha finds herself remaining seated on the couch, slowly easing into conversation with the woman next to her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading friends! Thoughts always welcome! 
> 
> PS. For anyone interested, I'm in the process of setting up a tumblr (it's still under construction hehe) where i'll be posting updates and just blogging about a little bit of everything in the meantime. If you're interested, feel free to follow me at phantoms-rain on tumblr!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short, but important chapter. We get more of a peak at Sasha.

Killing the engine plunges her car into silence. The only thing left to be heard is the echo of her own shaky breathing as she continues to grip the wheel tightly in her fists. The sound is amplified in her own ears, leaving behind an uncomfortably felt buzz as each labored breath coordinates with the visible rise and fall of her chest. If anyone were to look in, it would appear as if she’s a common no body attempting one of those breathing exercises you’re assigned at those so called ‘therapists’ in the area who charge way too much just so they can pretend that they know what’s wrong with you.

If she were in a sound enough state, Sasha would snort at her own poorly drawn analogy. Instead, she remains gripping the wheel so tightly, her knuckles look as if they’re threatening to protrude right through the skin. Her veins appear strained as she eventually manages to pry each finger away from the wheel one by one. She’s surprised to find herself shaking as much as she is and the only thing she can bear to do for a few moments is stare at the trembling digits as they appear to mock her weakness.

Her eyes slam shut at the sudden stinging behind her eyes and she shakes her head to ward off the sudden oncoming emotion.

Not here. Not now. Not where there’s too many people who can see. Too many people who would simply give her a distrustful glance out of the corner of their eye, because what business does _she_ have looking like anything other than the porcelain perfection expected of her? With the car she drives, the clothes she dons, and the makeup she wears, who the hell is _she_ to look human if for just a fraction of a second? Even for someone who largely doesn’t care, _those_ types of glances would be far too much.

She reaches over to where her purse sits idle in her passenger seat, where she fumbles idly for her compact mirror that loves to take on a mind of its own and stick to its classic routine of sinking to the very bottom. Eventually, her fingers find cold metal, and though her search proves fruitful, she hesitates as she opens to gaze at her own reflection. The rims of her eyes are dark and damp, smudged with her eye makeup that creates an image of something’s sinister past. Sniffling only highlights the redness of her nose, resulting from the minutes she had spent in silence as she drove alone to this very location.

_You look terrible._

The voice she hears in her head is a conglomerate of far too many that make it next to impossible for her to identify the source. It only sounds like a jumbled mess of conviction. It almost sounds demonic.

Shaking away the muddied insults, Sasha brings a tissue to her eyes, unable to stop her shaking as she gently dabs underneath her eyes to prevent any smearing. She mentally curses herself for not restocking on makeup wipes, so this will have to do. She had no choice but to be satisfied as she eventually puts herself back together.

The moment she steps out of her car, she can feel eyes on her. There are _always_ eyes on her, even now where she dons what she thinks is a simple sweater and a pair of jeans, people still unabashedly stare as they pass. Often times she shrugs it off. At this particular moment, she’s unable to keep her throat from tightening and her heartrate quickens just a fraction. It’s yet another feeling that she’s forced to shake off as she reaches down to grab her purse.

The action in itself causes a strangled hiss to escape her lips. Even the art of slinging said purse over her shoulder pulls at a soreness she hadn’t even realized she needed to nurse. Adrenaline is a wild thing, is it not? A true blessing and a curse than can give one the confidence of the ages, while simultaneously masking all of their short comings.

Her heeled boots clack rhythmically against the unkept pavement as she moves towards the diner tucked away in its own little corner of the world. It’s located in what many of the elite class can consider a less than desirable part of town, but for as long as she’s been coming here, that’s something that’s never bothered Sasha. If anything, it’s a very subtle reminder of a time where she felt warm. Where she felt _alive_.

Upon entering the diner, she has to reminder herself to drop the arm she had been cradling all the way to the entrance. She straightens up and glances around the place, marveling in how in all the time she’s been coming here, it never seems to change. The atmosphere harbors that stereotypical ‘homestyle’ feel that makes even the hardest of hearts soften and feel welcome. Her eyes drift down the line of booths and as she lands on the familiar one at the farthest end of the diner, she can’t help but smile when she finds it already occupied. Her smile only widens as she strides towards the booth and gently sets her purse in the unoccupied seat, across from the woman who at the moment appears to be focused in on her cell phone.

“You being on time is something I need to stop expecting.”

The words are spoken with the absence of malice, and Sasha playfully rolls her eyes as she settles into the booth. “I’m here aren’t I?” she returns the woman’s smirk with a grin of her own, only to laugh when she’s shot an eye roll that reflects her own.

Across from her sits someone who she can consider her closest friend. Sasha had met Naomi not too long after she had arrived in LA. When she first arrived in the city of dreams, Sasha hadn’t known hardly anyone, and it was through a strange twist of fate that Sasha found herself thrust into a lifestyle that she hadn’t ever once imagined, much less thought it at all possible for someone like her.

The two had become close as sister. With Naomi being a little older than her, Sasha had found her as something of a surrogate sister she always wanted but never quite had. She had been in the business a little longer than Sasha, and she knew all of the ins and outs. The dos and don’ts that were essentially what kept you afloat. At the time, Sasha had retained all of this information, taking it all in stride and filing away any and all pieces of advice the other woman had to offer. They became inseparable, and at the time, Naomi had been the solid support Sasha needed. It was all she had.

That is, until one late evening Sasha received a mysterious voicemail on her phone from a number she didn’t know. Sasha had barely recognized the other woman’s voice as she quickly hushed out an apology. It was all so sudden that Sasha felt like she had gotten whiplash. It was an apology for leaving, followed up by an explanation surrounding realizations of potential, and newer and better opportunities. The voicemail had been rounded off with a promise. It was a promise to one day reach back, and at the time, Sasha had simply shaken it off. She had sat alone and idle, staring blankly at her phone as if she came to terms with losing someone so close.

Perhaps she should have been bitter about it and for a while she was, but she learned to move on. She _had_ to. Lingering in her own self-pity wasn’t going to get the job done and it certainly wasn’t going to get her bills paid. It was that complete detachment and absent of mind, that left her stunned to the core the day, roughly a year later, when that same unknown number lit up on her phone. From there, the two reconnected, and have been doing what they can to stay in touch since.

“You order already?” Sasha inquires, pulling a nearby plastic menu in front of her as a sort of formality. They’ve been coming here from the start of their friendship and she knows the menu like back of her hand.

Naomi shakes her head. “Figured I’d wait.” She lifts a hand to flag down a waitress cleaning up behind the bar. “You know what you want?”

“Just my usual. I’ll probably an extra pancake on there. I know I probably shouldn’t, but I think I’ll treat myself today.”

Frowning at the split-second dejection in her friend’s tone, Naomi shakes her head again. “Well treat yourself all you want. I’ve got you today.”

“Glow, c’mon. You don’t have to—”

“I know what I do and ‘don’t’ have to do, but I’m going to do it anyway. I’m paying.”

Being leveled with a firm look has any and all arguments on Sasha’s lips deteriorating. She simply slumps back into her booth, sitting in silence as Naomi rattles off their orders. She only comes out of her momentary slump when a glass of water is sat in front of her, but instead of taking a sip, she begins to absently stir the straw around the glass. When she’s only met with silence, she looks up to find her friend watching her with a look of…is that pity? Sasha only quirks an eyebrow initially. When she only gets that same look and that same silence, she snorts quietly through her nose.

“What is it?” she mumbles, once again allowing her gaze to drop back to her water glass.

“I don’t know…” Naomi responds carefully as she appears to try and make light of Sasha’s sullen expression. “Wondering how you’ve been, I guess. It’s been a while.”

Sasha nods. “It has, too long you could almost say. Two months? Maybe three?”

Naomi hums. “Something like that.” She pauses momentarily as she reaches out to take a sip from the coffee she had ordered during her wait. “It shouldn’t have to be that long to talk though. You know you can call me whenever, right?” 

“No, no I know, and I’m sorry I kinda fell off.” Sasha’s head ducks as she shifts slightly uncomfortably in the booth. “I’ve been really busy lately, you know?”

Again, Naomi only hums and gives her a look. Sasha’s discomfort amplifies as she finds her well-built resolve beginning to fracture.

“What, Glow?”

Glow. It had been something of a nickname Sasha had dubbed for her friend early on. She had been teasing at the time, but she remembers explaining to Naomi that she had a way of lighting up a room, and for Sasha at the time, her life, even in the occasional darkest of circumstances. The name just stuck. So much so that it just came natural to Sasha whenever she saw the other woman.

Naomi’s eyebrows knit together before she scoots forward to the edge of her booth. The table still separates the two of them, but she leans in just enough to create something of an intimate space. This time, she’s the one who ducks her head to try to catch the eye of Sasha, who seems to be keen on not looking at her directly.

“Sash, are you okay?” her frown tightens. “I mean really.”

Sasha opens her mouth and she’s surprised that the first thing that leaves her lips is a laugh of uncertainty that has her stomach doing unpleasant flips. She gets lost in the condensation that drips down her water glass. One of the smaller droplets moves along the edge, meandering at its own slow pace until it’s overtaken by one of the much larger droplets and quickly dragged to the bottom of the glass. It’s such a silly thing to focus on, the insignificancies of water running down a glass, but in Sasha’s world it makes far too much sense.

“I’m fine.” The words sound as robotic as they feel coming out of her mouth, but she has enough wherewithal to tack on what she hopes is a convincing smile when she catches Naomi’s immediate suspicion.

“Really, I am. Like I said, things have just been a little…busy lately.” She tries to widen her smile, even though this time she can physically feel it wavering. “Recently, I kind of fucked up, I guess? I had a client and there was this…” she immediately cuts herself off and starts again. “I didn’t do what I was supposed to, and he wasn’t very happy with me.”

Naomi’s eyes widen just a fraction. “What was he wanting you to do? You know at this day in age, you can’t just let these johns do whatever they wanna do with you, right?”

Sasha chuckles uneasily again. “Come on, Glow. You’ve been gone a long time but not that long,” she concludes her statement with an arched eyebrow before continuing on. “Besides, it wasn’t like that. It was more of a business transaction. Some big-name investor I was supposed to show a good time and I blew it. Now I’m working to pay that off. She…wasn’t very happy with me.”

Immediately, Naomi turns to a cold seriousness and leans further across the table, this time dropping her voice down to a low whisper. “Sasha, what happened?”

“She didn’t do anything!” Sasha’s own rebuttal comes so quickly that it nearly feels like it burns her tongue. “I mean, of course she wasn’t happy. It was a really big client.”

“Well, if it was a creep it shouldn’t matter—”

“You know how she is, Glow.”

“Yeah, don’t I.” Naomi scoffs and rolls her eyes before sitting back against the booth. For a second, both she and Sasha adjust, offering their waitress polite smiles as she serves their plates, but the moment the young woman walks away, the weighted seriousness of the conversation returns. “Sasha, can I ask you something? If you don’t wanna answer it, you don’t gotta, but, if it’s okay?” when Sasha only offers her a tentative nod, she proceeds.

“Girl, what’s still got you doing this?”

The question hits Sasha like a truck, because of the familiarity. It’s something she’s heard over hundreds, probably thousands of times, only this time it’s to the tune of someone else’s voice rather than her own. The sickness in the irony, is hearing it manifested out loud by someone else, is almost just as torturous as the normality of her own personal musings.

Unable to find an answer to a long-standing question, she instead opts to respond with one of her own.

“You ever remember asking yourself the same question?” Her voice is almost forlorn and vanishing as she speaks and casts a saddened smile at her plate. “Over and over again, night after night about how you got there? And what’s keeping you there?” she shakes her head slowly. “If anyone truly knew the answer…’why am I here?’ would they really be where they are?”

“Well, I guess that could be true for some people, but not for you. That’s now what I see,” Naomi leans in again. “You’re smart, Sasha. What you’re doing? It’s not for girls like you. It came to a point where _I_ knew I had to get out, but you? Nah. You don’t belong here. You’re better than this.”

Sasha wants to laugh, because _god_ , how many times that small insignificant voice in the back of her mind told her that exact same lie. Maybe at one point, early on, she might’ve actually believed it. But after realizing the harshness of reality, Sasha knows exactly where her place is in this word.

“Not everybody has something waiting for them, Glow.” Sasha sadly shakes her head while simultaneously absently moving her food around her plate, a telltale action of losing her appetite. “You got out, and you made it. A career. A husband. Not all of us got that waiting for them.”

“Maybe not exactly that, but you ‘ve got something bigger waiting for you. I can see it.” Sighing quietly, Naomi reaches across the table and grabs hold of the other woman’s hand. “You just gotta see it too.”

Despite herself, Sasha turns her hand and grasps the other woman’s before squeezing tightly. It’s not by way of response, but as someone who believes—no. As someone who _knows_ otherwise, right now, it’s all she’s able to offer.

* * *

It was like a scene out of a movie when Sasha found herself approached by the tech mogul. Accompanied by the line ‘I saw you from across the room’, it was truly something out of those mid-modern films where the girl, young, doe-eyed and dumb, found herself alone in a club in the strange city of lights.

The irony? That hadn’t been her scene to begin with. It never had been, even when she spent her first two years at university. It was never her speed, but seeing as she had already taken a leap of faith and drove cross country on a spur of the moment decision, she figured, at the time, why the hell not? Maybe this had been, what is that people say? _The first day of the rest of her life?_ How would she ever find out who she is if she doesn’t search?

_How will you ever know if you can fly if you don’t take the leap?_

To this day she still doesn’t remember where she heard that. Perhaps it was a song lyric, or a line in a film, or even something written on the back of a postcard. At the time though, young, doe-eyed, and dumb, that had been what stuck with her, and that is how she found herself seated alone in a booth draped in neon lights surrounded by thumping music and sweaty bodies of individuals who were born for the scene.

When Sasha found herself joined by another person, she thought for sure that the stranger had been lost. _Especially_ after the purposely corny ‘you looked lonely’ introduction. There had been a hint of arrogance behind it, and normally Sasha would roll her eyes and blow of anyone who even dared to try such a thing with her, but there was something about the other woman that drew her on. Maybe she had still been hazed by the newness of the city. Maybe it was the electrically charged energy of the club. Hell, it had been the buzz of the half empty cocktail she had been nursing for a little over half an hour. Either way, Sasha allowed herself to play the game at the time. Maybe it would be fun to pretend for a while. To pretend like she belonged.

Bayley was certainly a woman Sasha had a hard time figuring out. There was a charm about her that Sasha couldn’t quite explain, and while she normally wasn’t affected by being tossed the occasional compliment, she found herself blushing more than she should have that night.

Conversation turned into a drink. A drink turned into three. Three turned into flirty giggles. Flirty giggles are what lead to the question: _do you want to get out of here?_ Perhaps it was the atmosphere that had Sasha biting her lip and nodding. Because this is what people did here, right?

The charge from the club had carried over into the backseat of the car where hands were at her thighs, and breath was teasing her neck. It carried over to a modern palace perched at the very top of the hills, and if Sasha hadn’t been so drunk on atmosphere, she would’ve taken the time to gawk at the chances of herself running into someone of the elite.

Sasha had never been a person of many of the things she did that night, the one-night stand being the big one, but at the time, it had been a night to remember. The sex was good, and for two seconds, Sasha believed herself to belong. Maybe there _was_ a place for her in the City of Angels?

“You know…you could come work for me?”

The proposal had stemmed from blurred conversation the night before regarding Sasha's employment. Or really...the lack thereof. The question had been murmured against her lips the following morning, and Sasha had remembered pulling away with a shy giggle as she waited for the punch line. “I don’t know anything about phone apps.”

“Nah. You don’t gotta know anything about all that stuff. That’s my job. I’ve been looking for an assistant to just handle, you know, all that office stuff. Sit in on meetings, take notes. Occasionally, sit down with potential partners. You know, just business stuff.”

“And why me? Someone you just met at a bar not even twelve hours ago?”

Bayley had simply sported a lopsided grin. “I dunno…there’s just something about you.”

Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe the excitement of potentially finding a new opportunity. Maybe the complete disbelief that being offered a chance so soon in a city that she would later learn is unforgiving.

_How will you ever know if you can fly if you don’t take the leap?_

Sasha had taken her leap that night. She just never knew that flying could be so deceiving. It was a lesson that she later got all too acquainted to as time passed. To this day, she’s still wondering if she’ll ever find her wings. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you guys for reading. Please feel free to let me know what you think :D 
> 
> Also, I post updates with awesome cover art and the occasional nerd thing on my tumblr! Feel free to head over to @phantoms-rain on tumblr and check it out!


End file.
